13^ 



MANUSCRIPT ^<5^ i 



TRANSMITTED 



FROM ST. HELENA, 



AN UNKNOWN CHANNEL. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 



J^EW-TORK: 



yVBLISHED BY TAN WINKLE AND WILET, 

No. 3 Wall-street. 

1817, 



HC |.I4 



VO^^^Vi^X 



state of Ntm- York, ss : 

BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the twenty-sixth day of May, in the 
forty-first year of the Independence of the United States of America, 
Van Winkle fe Wilet, of the said district, have deposited in this office 
the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words 
following, to wit : 

" Manu<3cript transmitted from St. Helena, by an Unknown Channel. 
'♦ Translated from the French." 

In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled, 
*' An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, 
♦* charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during 
" the times therein mentioned;" and also to an act, entitled. " An act, sup- 
*'plementary to an act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning, 
" by securing the copies ot maps, charts, and books, to the authors and 
" proprietors of ?uch copies, during the times therein mentioned, and 
" extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and 
".etching, historical and other prints." 

*' THERON RUDD, 

Clerk of the Southern District of New-York. 



^1= 



u 



ADVERTISEMENT, 



THIS Work, which is equally distinguished by 
its spirit and its ingenuity, was given to the Pub- 
lisher, with an assurance of its being brought from 
St. Helena, though an air of mystery was affectedly 
thrown round the mode of its conveyance. 

Whether it be really written by Buonaparte, or 
by some confidential friend, is a matter that must be 
left entirely to conjecture. It bears some resem- 
blance to his style, more to his manner, and is alto- 
gether just what the ostensible Author, or an able 
apologist under his name, might be expected to say 
of his opinions, motives, and actions. 



PREFACE. 



/ ivrite not commentaries ; for the events 
of my reign are sufficiently known ^ and I am 
not obliged to cater for public curiosity. 1 
give to the ivorld a sketch of these events.^ 
because my character and my intentions may 
be grossly misrepresented^ and I wish to ap- 
pear such as I really have been^ in the eyes of 
my son^ and of posterity^ 

Such is the object of this work, I am 
compelled to employ indirect means in order 
to cause it to be published. For if it should 
fall into the hands of the English ministers^ 
I know^ by experience^ that it would never see 
the light, 

I*- 



MANUSCRIPT, &c. 



My life has been so wonderful, that the 
admirers of my greatness have imagined 
that even my infancy must have been ex- 
traordinary. They were mistaken. The 
first years of my life were marked by no 
uncommon circumstances. I was an ob- 
stinate and inquisitive child. My early ed- 
ucation was as wretched as every thing 
else in Corsica, I acquired the French 
language with facility from the officers of 
the garrison, with whom I spent my time. 

I succeeded in whatever I undertook,^ 
because I willed it: my resolution was 



i 



e 

strong, and my character decided. I never 
hesitated; which has given mean advan- 
tage over the rest of mankind. Besides,= 
the will depends upon the constitution of 
the individual ; every one is not master of 
his own determinations. 

My intellectual character made me hate 
illusions. I have always discerned the 
truth at a single glance. This is the rea- 
son why I have always penetrated the bot- 
tom of things with more facility than 
others. The world has ever been seen 
by me such as it is, not such as it ought to 
be. So also I have not resembled any one. 
I have been by nature an isolated being. 

1 have never perceived that I derived 
any advantage from general studies, and, 
in truth, they have never served me any 
other purpose than to inspire a habit of or- 



der and method. From the mathematics 
alone have I gathered any fruit. The rest 
has been lost labour; but self-love excited 
me to study. 

My intellectual faculties developed 
themselves, without any exertion on my 
part They seemed to consist only in the 
extraordinary flexibility of the fibres of my 
brain. I thought with more rapidity than 
others ; so that I ha\T3 always found time 
for reflection : in this consists my depth of 
thought. 

My mind was too active to be amused 
with the ordinary diversions of youth. I 
was not wholly a stranger to them ; but 
sought elsewhere something to interest me. 
This disposition placed me in a kind of soli- 
tude, where I had no other companion than 
my own thoughts. This mode of exist- 



10 

ence has been habitual in all periods of 
my life. 

I took pleasure in the resolution of pro- 
blems, and first sought for them in mathe- 
matics ; but I soon exhausted this source 
of instruction, because the system of the 
material world is extremely limited. I then 
examined the moral system; and this la- 
bour proved more successful. It is to this 
species of research, which has become a 
confirmed habit, that I am indebted for my 
achievements in politics and in war* 

My birth destined me to the service ; 
and for this reason I was placed in the mi- 
litary school. I obtained a lieutenancy at 
the commencement of the revolution. I 
have never received any title with equal 
pleasure. The utmost bounds of my am- 
bition Avere at that period limited to the 



11 

hope of wearing epaulettes on both shoul- 
ders : a colonel of artillery appeared to me 
the ne plus ultra of human greatness. 

I was at that time too young to take any 
interest in politics. I had not yet judged 
of mankind in mass. I was therefore nei- 
ther surprised nor alarmed at the confusion 
which reigned at that epoch, because I was 
unable to compare it with any other. I 
accommodated myself to the existing state 
of things. I had not yet become difficult. 

I was employed in the army of the Alps. 
This army did nothing which an army 
ought to do. It was a stranger to disci- 
pline and the art of war. I was in a bad 
sjchool. It is true, that we had no enemies 
to combat ; we were only ordered to pre- 
vent the Piedmonlese from passing the 
Alpsj^ and nothing was more easy^ 



12 

Anarchy reigned in our cantonments : 
the soldier had no respect for his officer; 
the officer had Httle for his general ; who 
was every day Hable to be cashiered by 
the representatives of the people. To 
them alone did the army annex the idea 
of power ; which, of all other ideas, is the 
most impressive on the human mind. I 
then perceived the danger of civil influence 
over the military state, and learnt to guard 
against it. 

It was not talents, but loquacity, which 
acquired distinction in the army, where 
every thing depended on that popular fa- 
vour which is obtained by vociferation. 

I have never had with the multitude 
that community of feeling which is the 
parent of street eloquence. I have never 
possessed the talent of moving the peo- 



13 

pie. I consequently played no part in 
this army. This circumstance gave me 
more time for reflection. 

I studied the art of war ; not on paper, 
but in the field. The first time I was 
ever in action was in a trifling aflair of 
sharp-shooters, near Mount Genevre. 
The fire was scattering, and only a few 
ofonr men were wounded. I felt no emo- 
ton ; the occasion was not serious enough 
to excite any. 1 examined the action; it 
appeared to me evident that neither of the 
contending parties had any particular re- 
sult in view. They skirmished to acquit 
'their consciences, and because it is the 
usage of war. This nullity of object dis- 
pleased me; the resistance irritated me: 
I reconnoitred the ground ; I took the ri- 
fle of a wounded soldier, and prevailed on 
a good natured captain who c6mmanded us 



14 

to continue his fire, whilst I went with a 
dozen men to cut off the retreat of the 
Piedmontese. 

It appeared to me easy to gain a height 
which commanded their position, passing 
hy a cluster of trees, on which our left 
rested. Our captain grew warm; his men 
gained ground ; the j drove the enemy to- 
wards us, and when he was broken, I un- 
masked my force. Our fire disturbed his 
retreat ; we killed several, and took twen- 
ty prisoners. The remainder escaped. 

I have related my first feat of arms, not 
because it gained me the rank of captain, 
but because it initiated me in the secret of 
the art of war. f perceived that it is easier 
to beat an enemy than is generally suppo- 
sed; and that the great art consists in avoid- 
ing delay and irresolution, and in hazard- 



15 

ing only decisive movements, because it is 
bj these means that the enemy is cut off. 

I had gained my spurs ; T thought I had 
gained experience. I now felt a strong at- 
tachment to a profession in which I suc- 
ceeded so well. I thought of nothing else, 
and I set about solving all the problems 
which a field of battle could offer. I also 
wished to study the art of war in books^ 
but I had none. I endeavoured to recol- 
lect the little I had read in history, and I 
compared its narrations with the scene 
which I had before my eyes. I thus form- 
ed to myself a theory of war, which time 
has fully developed, but has never falsi- 
fied. 

Such was the insignificant life I led un- 
til the siege of Toulon. I was then chief 
of battalion, and in that capacity I had it 



16 

in my power to contribute to the success 

of the siege. 

Never was army so ill conducted as 
ours. No one knew who commanded. 
The generals dared not, for fear of the 
representatives of the people ; who were 
also still more afraid of the committee of 
public safety. The commissaiies plun- 
dered, the officers drank, the soldiers died 
of hunger; but they were regardless of 
danger and of death. Even this concision 
inspired them with more courage than dis- 
cipline could give. I then became con- 
vinced that mechanical armies are worth- 
less; they have proved that my convic- 
tion was well grounded. 

Every thing was transacted in the camp 
by motions and by acclamations. To me 
this was intolerable ; but I could not pre- 



vent it, and I moved steadily on to my ob- 
ject without embarrassment. 

I was perhaps the only individual in the 
army who had a definite object, but it was 
my humour to have an end in every thing. I 
occupied myself in examining the posi- 
tion of the enemy and our own. I com- 
pared his moral resources with ours. I 
perceived that these resources were ex- 
clusively in our favour. His expedition 
was a rash attempt, of which he must have 
foreseen the catastrophe ; and an enemy 
is never so weak as when he anticipates 
his own defeat, 

I sought for the best point of attack i 
and determined the positions which our 
batteries should occupy. Rxperienced of- 
ficers found them too dangerous^ but bat- 
tles are not gained by experiencje. I cour 
2* 



18 

tinued firm ; I developed my plan to Bar- 
ras : he had been a naval officer : These 
brave men understand nothing of the mili- 
tary art, but their characteristic is intrepi- 
dity. Barras approved it, because he 
wished to finish the siege. Besides, the 
convention did not require from him an ac- 
count of mutilated limbs : all that thev re- 
quired was victory. 

My artillerists w^ere brave, and without 
experience : the best of all possible dispo- 
sitions for soldiers. Our attacks were 
successful ', the enemy was intimidated ; he 
no longer dared to attempt any thing 
against us. He stupidly showered upon 
us his balls, which fell wherever chance di- 
rected, but produced no effect. The firq 
directed by me was better aimed. Be- 
side the desire of victory, for its own sake, 
I was inspired with ao ardent zeal in this 



19 

affair, because from It I expected promo- 
tion. I passed nij time at the batteries ; 
I slept ill the trenches. Nothing is well 
done that is confided to others. The pri- 
soners informed us that every thing was 
going to destruction in the place. It was 
at last evacuated in the most shameful 
manner. 

We had deserved well of the country. 
I was created general of brigade. I was 
employed, denounced, dismissed, and 
ballotted for, by intrigues and factions. 
I imbibed a strong abhorrence to this an- 
archy, then at Its height ; which antipathy 
I have never since overcome. This bloody 
government w^as to me the more dreadful, 
as it was absurd, and self-destructive. It 
was a perpetual revol ution, the very leaders 
of which sought not e\en the stability of 
their own power. 



20 

A general, but without employment, I 
went to Paris, because it was there only 
that it could be obtained. I attached my- 
self to Barras, because I knew no one else. 
Roberspierre was dead ; Barras played a 
distinguished part; it was necessary that 
I should attach myself to some person and 
party. 

The insurrect;ion of the sections against 
the convention was preparing : I took no 
-great interest in its result, because I occu- 
pied myself less with politics than with war. 
I had not thought of playing a part in this 
crisis ; but Barras proposed that I should 
command under him the armed force 
against the insurgents. I preferred, in my 
charactei* of general, to be at the head of 
the troops, rather than throw myself into 
the ranks of the sections, where I had no 
business* 



21 

We only had a handful of men and two 
pieces of cannon to guard the hall of the 
manege, A column of Insurgents came to 
attack us. I commenced a fire from my 
guns, and they fled ; I caused them to be 
pursued ; they threw themselves upon the 
steps of the church of St. Roque. Only 
one piece of cannon could pass the street, 
which was very narrow. The fire was di- 
rected against this mob, who dispersed, 
leavino* several dead on the ground. The 
whole was finished in ten minutes. 



This event, so trifling in itself, was at- 
tended with important consequences : It 
prevented the revolution from retrogra- 
ding. I naturally attached myself to the 
party for which I had fought, and I found 
myself connected with the cause of the 
revolution. I began to study this great 
event, and the result was a conyiction that 



22 

it would triumph, becausaitliad for its al- 
lies public opinion, numbers, and auda- 
city. 

The affair of the sections raised me to 
the rank of general of division, and to a 
certain sort of celebrity. As the victori- 
ous party still trembled for its safety, I was 
detained at Paris contrary to my own 
"wishes; for I had no other ambition than 
to enter into active service with my new 
rank, 

I therefore remained in the capital with- 
out employment. I had no connexion with 
its inhabitants ; no relation with its socie- 
ty, and I frequented only the house of Bar- 
ras: there I was well received. It w^as 
there that I saw, for the tirst time, my wife, 
who subsequently had an important influ- 
ence over the events of my life, and w hose 
memory will be always dear to me. 



23 

I was not insensible to the charms of 
women ; but I had not yet been seriously 
affected by them ; and my character ren- 
dered me timid in their society. Madame 
de Beauharnais was the first who inspired 
me with courage. One day as I was sit- 
ting by her, she addressed to me some 
flattering compliments upon my miHtary 
talents. This eulogy intoxicated me ; I 
continually conversed with her ; I follow- 
ed her every where; I was passionately in 
love with her, and our friends discovered 
my secret long before I dared to reveal it 
to her. 

My passion becoming known to Barras, 
he spoke to me on the subject. I had no 
reason to deny my sentiments. " That 
being the case," said he, " you must mar- 
ry Madame de Beauharnais. You have a 
rank and talents worthy of estimation; 



24 

but you are isolated, without fortune and 
without connexions; you must marry — 
that will give you a fixed character. Ma- 
dame Beauharnais has talents and agree- 
able manners, but she is a widow. This 
condition has now no advantages; wo- 
men no longer play a part in public af- 
fairs ; they must marry in order to have 
a respectable and fixed condition. You 
have genius ; you will make your way ; 
you are suitable for her: — will you charge 
me with this negotiation ?" 

I waited for the result with anxiety. It 
was favourable : Madame de Be?iuharnais 
gave me her hand ; and if there have hf^en 
any happy moments in my life, it is to her 
that I am indebted for them. 

My position in the world changed after 
my marriage. Under the directory a kind 



25 

of social order was re-established, in which 
I took a rank sufficiently distinguished. I 
might reasonably indulge the hopes of my 
ambition : I might aspire to every thing. 

As to ambition, I had no other than that 
of obtaining the command of an army ; for 
a man is nothing, unless a military reputa- 
tion is the herald of his fame. I believed 
myself certain of establishing mine, for I 
felt within me the instinct of mlHtary ge- 
nius; but I had apparently no well found- 
ed right to bring forward such a demand. 
It was essential that I should acquire such 
a right. At that period this was not diffi- 
cult. 

The army of Italy was degraded for 
want of active employment. I had con^ 
€^ived the idea of putting it in motions to 
3 



26 

attack Austria in the quarter where she 
felt herseh" most secure ; that is, in Italy. 

The Directory had made peace with 
Prussia and Spain ; but Austria, subsidized 
by England, strengthened her military re- 
sources, and made head against us upon the 
Rhine. It was evident that we ought to 
make a diversion in Italy — to shake the 
power of Austria — to give a lesson to the 
petty princes of Italy, who had leagued 
against us ; and, finally, to give a decided 
colour to the war, which it had hitherto 
wanted. 

This plan was so simple ; it comported 
so well with the interests of the Directory, 
who needed success to establish their po- 
pularity, that I hastened to communicate 
it, for fear of being anticipated by others. 
It encountered no opposition, and I was 



27 

appointed commawder in chief of the army 
of Italy. 

I set off to join this army, which had 
received some reinforcements from the ar- 
my of Spain, and I found it fifty thousand 
strong, but without any resources, except 
hearty good will. Determining to put this 
to the proof, a few days after my arrival I 
ordered a general movement along the 
whole line, from Nice to Savona. This 
was in the beginning of April, 1796. 

In three days we carried all the Austro- 
Sardinian posts which defended the heights 
of Liguria. The enemy, thus briskly at- 
tacked, collected his forces. We encoun- 
tered him at Montetiotte on the 10th ; he 
was beaten. The 14th we attacked him 
at Millesimo ; he was again beaten, and 
we separated the Austrians from the Pied- 



2B 

montese. The latter took up a positbo 
at Mondovi^ whilst the Austrians retreated 
to the P05 in order to cover Lombardy. 

I beat the Piedmontese. In three days 
I carried all the positions of Piedmont, and 
we w^ere within nine leagues of Turin, 
when I received an aid-de-camp, wha 
came to ask for peace. 

Then for i\\e first time I considered my- 
self not merely as a general, but as a man 
called to influence the fate of nations, I 
saw myself in history. 

This peace changed my plan. It was 
BO longer limited to the idea of making 
Italy the seat of war, but extended to the 
conquest of that country. I perceived that 
hy enlarging the field of the revolution, I 
gave a more solid basis to its edifice. This 



29 

was the most ejSectual means of ensuring 
its final triumph* 

The court of Piedmont had ceded to u^ 
all its strong places. It had delivered to 
us its territory. We were thus masters 
of the Alps and the Appenines. We se- 
cured our points of support^ and were 
tranquil as to the practicabihty of effecting 
our retreat,^ 

Under these auspicious circumstances I 
moved to attack the Austrians. I passed 
the Po at Placentia, and the Adda at Lodi^ 
not withaut some difficulty r but Beaulieu 
retired^ and I en^tered Milan. 

The Austrians made incredible efforts 
to recover Italy. Five times I was obliged 
to defeat their armies, in order to finish the 
eon test. 

3* 



30 

Once master of Italy, it was necessary 
to establish the revolutionary system, in or- 
der to unite that country to France by com- 
mon principles and common interests : in 
other words, it was necessary to destroy 
the ancient order of things and establish 
equality; because this is the vital essence of 
revolutions. I foresaw that I should have 
the clergy, the nobility, and their depend- 
ents, against me. I expected resistance, 
and I determined to crush it by force of 
arms, but without disturbing the people* 

I had achieved great deeds, but it was 
necessary to assume a corresponding tone 
and attitude. The revolution had destroyed 
every species of dignity in France : I could 
not restore to her the pomp of royalty : I 
gave her the lustre of victory and the 
lofty language of domination. 

I resolved to become the protector of 



31 

Italy, and not her conqueror. I succeeded 
by maintaining the discipline of the army, 
by punishing revolt severely; but above 
all, by the establishment of the Cisalpine 
republic. By that institution I satisfied 
the avowed desire of the Italians for inde- 
pendence. I gave them high hopes of fu- 
ture greatness : it depended on themselves 
to realize these hopes by embracing our 
cause. They were allies whom I gave to 
Prance. 

This alHance will long endure betweea 
the two nations, because it is founded on 
common interests and common services : 
they had the same opinions and the same 
springs of action. Without me they would 
have kept up their old enmity. Sure of 
Italy, I did not fear to risk myself in the 
very heart of Austria. I arrived in sight 
of Vienna, and I signed the treaty of 



32 

Gampo Formio. It was a glorious act for 
France. 

The party I had countenanced on the 
1 8th Fructidor had remained master of the 
republic. I had favoured it because it was 
mine, and because it was the only one cal- 
culated to push on the revolution. The 
more I mingled in public alFairs, the 
more I was convinced of the necessity 
of accomplishing the revolution, because 
it was the fruit of public opinion and of 
the age : every thing that retarded its pro- 
gress prolonged the crisis. 

Peace was made on the continent; we 
were only at w^ar v^ith England ; but for 
want of a field of battle we were inactive. 
I was conscious of my powers : they were 
of a nature to distinguish me, but they 
were unemployed. I knew, however, that 



33 

i'q order to remain in sight I must fix at- 
tention, and the only means of doing this 
was by extraordinary undertakings; be- 
cause men are grateful for excitation. In 
consequence of this opinion I undertook 
the expedition to Egypt. It was attri- 
buted to profound speculations on my 
part : but I had no other motive than to 
employ myself after the peace I had ju,st 
concluded. 

This expedition would give a high idea 
of the power of France ; it would fix atten- 
tion on its commander; it would surprise 
Europe by its boldness. These were more 
than sufficient motives for the undertaking; 
but I had not the slightest wish to dethrone 
the Grand Turk, or even to make myself a 
Pacha. 

I prepared for my departure with pro- 



34 

found secrecy : it was necessary to suc- 
cess, and added to the singular character 
of the expedition, 

The fleet set sail. I was obliged to de- 
stroy that nest of nobility at Malta* as I 
passed, because it served the views of the 
English. I was afraid lest some old leaven 
of honour might have tempted these knights 
to defend themselves, and retard me ; for- 
tunately, they surrendered even more ig- 
nominiously than I had expected, 

The battle of Aboukir destroyed the 
fleet, and gave the English the ascendan- 
cy by sea. From that moment I anticipa- 
ted the catastrophe : — for an army which 
has not the means of recruiting itself, al- 
ways ends by capitulating. 

* It is not possible to do justice to the original expres- 
sion, Cette gentilhomiere de Malte^ — T. 



35 

In the mean time it was necessary to re- 
main in Egypt, because there was no means 
of escaping from it. I determined to set a 
good face upon a bad affair. I succeeded 
tolerably. 

I had a fine army ; it was necessary to 
keep it in action, and I achieved the con- 
quest of Egypt, in order to give it employ- 
ment. By diis conquest I opened to sci- 
ence the most brilliant field she ever ex- 
plored. 

Our soldiers, indeed, were a little surpri- 
sed at finding: themselves in the heritao-e 
of Sesostris ; but they took it very well; 
and it was so singular to see Frenchmen 
among such ruins, that they themselves 
were diverted at it. 

Having nothing more to do in Egypt, I 



36 

thought it would be interesting to visit 
Palestine, and attempt to conquer it. This 
expedition had a romantic air; I allowed 
myself to be seduced by it; but I was mis- 
informed with regard to the obstacles I 
was to meet, and I did not take troops 
enough with me. 

Having passed the desert, I learned that 
forces had been assembled at St. Jean 
d'Acre ; I could not despise them ; I was 
forced to march thither. The place was 
defended by a French engineer. I per- 
ceived it by the resistance it made. I was 
obliged to raise the siege : the retreat was 
disastrous. For the first time I had to 
encounter the opposing elements ; but we 
were not overcome. 

On my return to Egypt, I received the 
public journals by way of Tunis. From 



37 

them I learned the deplorable state of 
France, the disgrace of the Duectory, and 
the success of the coalition. I thought I 
might serve my country a second time. 
No motive now detained me in Egypt: 
the enterprise was at an end. Any gene- 
ral was competent to sign a capitulation 
which circumstances would render inevi- 
table; and I set out without any further de- 
sign than that of re-appearing at the head 
of the armies to lead them back to vic- 
tory. 

On landing at Frejus, my presence ex- 
cited enthusiasm in the people. My mili- 
tary glory re-animated those who were 
disheartened. The roads were crowded 
as I passed : my journey had the air of a 
triumph ; and on my arrival at Paris 1 found 
that I was all-powerful in France* 



38 

I found the government in a state of 
anarchy ; its imbecility had brought it to 
the verge of ruin. Every one was for 
saving his country, and every one propo- 
sed his plan. All these various schemes 
were confided to me ; I was the pivot upon 
which every coalition turned ; but there 
was not a single head capable of conduct- 
ing any fixed plan. They all relied on me, 
because they all required a sword. I re- 
lied on no one, and chose the plan which 
suited my own views. 

Fortune bore me to the head of affairs. 
I determined to be master of the revolu- 
tion, for I did not choose to be merely its 
chief: that part did not suit me. I was 
then called upon to prepare the future fate 
of France — perhaps that of the world. 

But it was necessary first to make war; 



39 

to make peace; to put down faction; to 
found my authority. It was necessary to 
put the huge machine, called government^ 
in motion. I foresaw the obstacles to be 
encountered, and would have then prefer*- 
red the simple trade of war; for I loved the 
authority of head quarters, and the emotion 
of the field of battle. In short, at that mo- 
ment I felt more disposed to restore the 
military superiority of France, than to go- 
vern it. 

But I had no choioe in my destiny. I 
easily perceived that the reign of the Di- 
rectory was near its end ; that some effi- 
cient authority must be put in its place, in 
order to save the state; that there is no- 
thing truly imposing but military glory. 
The Directory could then only be succeed- 
ed by me, or by a state of anarchy. The 
choice of France was not doubtful. Pub- 



40 

He opinion, in this respect, enlightened my 
owa. 

I proposed to supply the place of the 
Directory by a Consulate; so far was I at 
that time from conceiving the idea of as- 
suming sovereign power. The republi- 
cans proposed to elect two consuls ; I de- 
manded a third, because I did not choose 
to have an equal. The first place in this 
triumvirate was justly my due ; it was all 
I aimed at 

My proposal was received by the repub- 
licans with distrust. They already per- 
ceived a dictator among the triumviri; 
they combined against me. Even the pre- 
sence of Si©yes could not pacify them. He 
had taken upon him to draw up a constitu- 
tion ; but the Jacobins felt more terror at 
my sword, than confidence in the pen of 
then* old Abbe, 



41 

Ail parties were now ranged under 
two banners ; on one side were the repub- 
licans, who opposed my elevation, and on 
the other, all France demanding it. It was 
therefore inevitable at that period, because 
the majority always succeed. The first 
had established their head quarters in the 
council of five hundred ; they made a re- 
solute defence; we were obliged to win 
the battle of St. Cloud to bring about this 
revolution. At one time I thought it would 
have been carried by acclamation. 

The wishes of the public had given me 
the first place in the state : the resistance 
that had been opposed to it did not alarm 
me, because it proceeded from persons 
blasted in the opinion of that public. The 
royalists had not appeared ; they had been 
taken by surprise. The body of the peo- 
ple had confidence in me, because they 
4# 



42 

knew that the revolution couid not have 
better security than mine. I derived my 
strength solely from being at the head of 
the interests created by that revolution ; 
since, in opposing it, I should have taken 
the ground of the Bourbons. 

It was important that all should be new 
in the nature of my power, in order that 
all kinds of ambition mio:ht find aliment. 
But there was nothing defined in it, and 
that was its defect. 

By the constitution I was only the first 
magistrate of the republic ; but my staff 
of office was a sword. There was an in- 
compatibihty between my constitutional 
rio'hts and the ascendant which I held m 

o 

virtue of my character and my actions. 
The public felt, as I did, that this state of 
things could not last ; and every one took 
measures accordingly. 



43 

I found more courtiers than I wanted 5 
they formed a train : and I was not at all 
in pain about the progress of my authori- 
ty, but very much so as to the actual situa- 
tion of France. 

We had suffered ourselves to be beaten : 
the Austrians had recovered Italy, and 
overturned my labours. We had no army 
to employ offensively; there was not a 
sous in the exchequer, and no means of 
supplying it. The conscription only went 
on as it pleased the mayors. Sieyes had 
drawn up an inefficient and wordy constitu^ 
tion. All that constitutes the strength of 
a state was annihilated ; the weak paiis 
only remaiaed.^ 

Forced by circumstances, I thought it 
hest to demand peace. I eould then do it 
m good earnest, because it would have 



44 

made my fortijne: later, it would have been 
disgraceful. 

Mr. Pitt refused it ; and never did states- 
man commit so great a blunder ; for that 
was the only opening for the allies to make 
it with safety. France, by demanding 
peace, acknowledged that she was con- 
quered; and nations may rise from every 
reverse if they do not consent to their own 
disgrace. 

Mr. Pitt refused it. He saved me from 
committing a great error, and he extended 
the empire of the Revolution over all Eu- 
rope — an empire that even my fall has not 
been able to destroy. Had he then left it 
to itself, it would have been confined to 
France. 



Thiis I was forced to go to war. Mas- 



45 

sena defended himself in Genoa ; but the 
armies of the Republic no longer dared to 
cross either the Rhine or the Alps. It was 
then necessary to re-enter Italy and Ger- 
many, to dictate peace to Austria. Such 
was my plan ; but I had neither soldiers, 
ordnance, nor small arms. 

I called out the conscripts ; — I set ar- 
mourers to work ; — I awakened the senti- 
ment of national honour, which is never 
more than lulled in the breast of a French- 
man. I assembled an army : half of it still 
wore the clothing of the peasantry. Eu- 
rope laughed at my soldiers ; but she paid 
dearly for her momentary mirth. 

I could not, however, openly und'" ^^'^^ 
a campaign with such an army : ^"^ *^ ^^^ 
necessary to astonish the er ^^7' ^"^^ P^^" 
fit by his surprise. G^^^^ ^"^^^^ ^^^^^ 



/ 



46 

him on towards the defiles of Nice ; Mas- 
sena protracted the defence of Genoa from 
day to day. I set out ; — I advanced to- 
wards the Alps ; — my presence, and the 
grandeur of the enterprise, animated the 
soldiers. They had no shoes, but they 
marched as if each belonged to the van- 
guard. 

At no time of my life have I experien- 
ced a sentiment like that which I felt on 
entering the defiles of the Alps. The moun- 
tain echoes resounded with the shouts of 
the army. They announced an uncertain, 
but probable victory. I was again to see 
Italy— the theatre of my first campaign. 
My cannon slowly climbed the rocks. My 

tirb grrenadlers reached the summit of St. 
Bernau rpj^^^ ^|^^^^ ^p ^^^-^^ y^^^^^ ^^^^^ 

rated with ,^^ feathers, into the air, and 
shouted for jo^ rj.^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ crossed, 
and we poured do>, j-j^^ ^ ^^^^.^^^^ 



47 

General L'Asne commanded the ad- 
vanced guard. He seized Ivree, Verceil, 
Pavia, and secured the passage of the Po. 
The whole army crossed it without inter- 
ruption. 

Soldiers and generals — all were young. 
We had our fortune to make. We made 
light of fatigue, still lighter of danger. 
We were careless of every thing, but of 
that glory which is only to be obtained ott 
the field of battle. 

At the news of my arrival, the Austrians 
manoeuvred upon Alexandria. Crowded 
into that town, at the moment I appeared 
before its walls, tlieir columns spread them- 
selves in front of the Bormida. I attack- 
ed them. Their artillery was superior to 
mine; it disordered our young battalions; 
they gave ground. The line was preser- 



48 

ved only by two battalions of the guards^ 
and the forty-fifth. But I expected some 
corps that were marching in file. Des- 
saix's division arrives ; the whole line ral- 
lies. Dessaix forms his column of attack, 
and carries the village of Marengo, upon 
which the centre of the enemy is posted. 
This great general was killed at the very 
moment in which he had decided an im- 
mortal victory. 

The enemy seeks shelter under the 
ivalls of Alexandria. The bridges are too 
narrow for them to pass; a dreadful confu- 
sion ensues ; we take bodies of artillery, 
and entire battalions. Crowded up beyond 
the Tanaro, without communication, with- 
out retreat^ — threatened on the rear by 
Massena and Suchet, with a victorious ar- 
my in front, the Austrians submit. Me- 
las begged to capitulate — it was unparal- 



49 

leled in the annals of war. The whole of 
Italy was restored to me, and the conquer- 
ed army laid down their arms at the feet of 
our conscripts. 

This day was the brightest of my life, 
for it was one of the brightest for France. 
All was changed for her ; she was soon to 
enjoy a peace which she had conquered. — 
She lay down to rest like a lion. She must 
be happy, for she was great. 

Faction was at rest ; it was dazzled into 
silence. La Vendee was calmer; the Ja* 
cobins were forced to thank me for the 
victory, for it turned to their account. I 
had no longer any rivals. 

The common danger and public enthu- 
siasm had forced every party to join for 
the moment. Security divided them* 
5 



50 

Wherever there is not an incontestable 
centre of power, men will be found who 
will hope to incline it towards themselves. 
It is what happened to mine. My autho- 
rity was only that of a temporary magis- 
tracy; it was therefore not unalterable. 
Whoever had vanity, and believed himself 
possessed of talent, began a campaign 
against me. The tribune became the cita- 
del whence they commenced their attack, 
under the name of the executive power. 

If i had yielded to their declamations, it 
had been all over with the state. It had 
too many enemies to venture to divide its 
forces, or to lose time in words. The re- 
cent trial was a tolerably rude proof, but it 
was not sufficient to silence those who will 
always prefer the interest of their private 
vanity to that of their country. They 
resisted the taxes, abused the govern- 



51 

ment, hampered its proceedings, and kept 
back the recruits for the army, in hopes 
of gaining popularity. 

Had this continued, we should have 
fallen a prey to the enemy in fifteen days. 
We were not yet strong enough to hazard 
it. My power was too new to be invul- 
nerable. The Consulate would have faded 
like the Directory, if I had not destroyed 
the opposition by a stroke of policy. I 
deposed the factious tribunes. The world 
of Paris called this to eliminate^ them ; this 
term became a don mot. 

This trifling event, which is now forgot- 



* This is an awkward and periphrastic translation, 
but the real English expel^ or in the other sense, warn- 
out^ would never do ; the word had till then, even in 
France, been rarely used. — T. 



ten, changed the constitution of France, 
both internally and with regard to Europe. 
The enemies of the revolution, both within 
and without, were too violent not to force 
her to adopt the form of a dictatorship, as 
every other republic has done in moments 
of danger. Balanced powers can only an- 
swer m peaceful times. For this reason, 
my power was increased every time it ap- 
peared in danger, in order to prevent a 
relapse. 

I should, perhaps, have done better, had 
1 frankly insisted on the dictatorship at 
once, since I was accused of aspiring to it. 
Every one would have been a judge of 
what they called my ambition : I believe it 
would have been better; for monsters ap- 
pear greater at a distance than near by. 
The dictatorship would have had the ad- 
vantage of removing all doubts as to the 



as 

future ; of leaving opinion undivided, and 
of intimidating the enemy by showing the 
resolution of France. 

But I perceived that this high authority 
•was placed, as of itself, in my hands. I 
had no occasion to receive it officially. I 
exercised it in fact, if not by right, and it 
was sufficient to survive the crisis, and to 
save France and the revolution. 

My task, then, was to establish the revo- 
lution, by giving it a lawful character, that 
it might be acknowledged and legitimated 
by the commonwealth of Europe. 

All revolutions have undergone the same 
confficts. Ours could not expect to be ex- 
empt from them ; but she might claim ia 
her turn the right of citizenship in that 
commonwealth. 

5* 



54' 

I krrew that before we proposed it, our 
principles must be fixed, our legislation 
agreed upon, and our excesses repressed. 
1 believed myself strong enough to suc- 
eeed, and I was not mistaken. 

The principle of the revolution was the 
abolition of castes, or, in other words, to es- 
tablish equality. I respected it. The office 
of legislation is ta regulate principles, in 
this spirit I made laws. Excesses had 
shown themselves in the existence of fac- 
tions. I did not notice them, and they dis- 
appeared. They had shown themselves 
in the destruction of religious worship; I 
re-established it. In the existence of emi- 
grants ; I recalled them. In the general dis- 
order of administration ; I reformed it. In 
the ruin of the finances ; I restored them. 
In the want of an opportunity competent ta 
govern France } 1 gave her that authority 



55 

by taking into my own hands the reins of 
governnient 

Few men have done so much as I then 
did in so short a time. History will one 
day record what France was at my acces- 
sion, and what she was when she gave 
laws to Europe. 

I had no occasion to employ arbitrary 
power to accomplish these stupendous 
works. Probably it would not have been 
refused me : but would not have accept- 
ed it, because Ihave always detested what- 
ever is arbitrary. I loved good order and 
laws. I made many, and I made them se- 
vere and precise, but just; because a law 
which permits no exception is always just. 
I caused them to be rigorously observed, 
for such is the duty of the throne ; but I 
respected them. They will survive me, 
and that will reward my labours. 



56 

All seemed to prosper. The state revi- 
ved; good order began to reappear. I 
devoted myself ardently to the work, but 
I felt that there was something wanting in 
the system — that is to say, a definitive. 

However strong my desire might be to 
establish permanently the principles of the 
revolution, I clearly saw that I should have 
to overcome great obstacles before I suc- 
ceeded : for there was a necessary antipathy 
between the old and new systems. They 
formed two masses whose interests were 
precisely in an inverse ratio. All the go^ 
vernments which still subsisted by virtue 
of the ancient law of nations, saw them- 
selves exposed by the principles of the re- 
volution, which had no security itself but 
in treating with the enemy, or destroying 
him if he refused to acknowledge it 



^7 

This struggle was to decide, as by a last- 
appeal, on the renewal of the social order 
of Europe. I was at the head of the great 
faction which would fain have destroyed 
the system on which the world had gone 
on since the time of the Romans. As such, 
I was set up as a mark for the hatred of 
all who were interested in preserving their 
Gothic rust. A kss decided character 
than mine might have temporized, and left 
a part,a t least, of this question, to be dis- 
posed of by time. 

But as soon as I had sounded the two 
factions to the very bottom — as soon as I 
had perceived that they really divided the 
world as at the time of the Reformation^ I 
understood that there could be no com- 
pact between them, because their interests 
clashed too much. I perceived that the 
more tlie crisis was shortened the better 



for the people. It was, therefore, abso- 
lutely necessary that we should have with 
us the greater part of Europe, in order to 
indine the balance in our favour. I could 
only command this preponderance by the 
right of the strongest, because it is the 
only one acknowledged between nations. 
It was, therefore, also necessary to become 
the strongest ; for I was not only called to 
govern France, but to subdue the world 
before her; otherwise she would have 
been crushed by the world. 

I never had a choice in the course I 
pursued, for it was always commanded by 
events ; because our danger was imminent : 
and the 31st of March proved how far it 
was to be dreaded, and how impossible it 
was to teach the old and new systems to 
abide together in peace. It was, there- 
fore, easy to foresee, that as long as there 



59 

was a parity of force between the two, 
there would be war, open or disguised. 
Any peace that might be signed would be 
be but to gain a breathing time. France, 
then, as the head-quarters of the revo- 
lution, was bound to hold herself in 
readiness to resist the tempest. For this 
purpose, It was requisite that there should 
be unity in the government, to ensure 
strength ; union in the nation, to produce 
common aim; and confidence in the peo- 
ple, that they might consent to the sacri- 
iices necessary to command victory. 

But every thing was precarious in the 
consular system, because nothing was in 
its proper sphere. There was a nominal 
republic, and a real sovereignty ; a feeble 
representation of the people, and a strong 
executive power ; obedient authorities^ 
and a preponderating army. 



60 

Nothing can go on well in a political 
system, where words and things are at va- 
riance. Government debases itself by the 
continual fictions it must use : it falls into 
that kind of contempt which falsehood in- 
spires, because, whatever is false, is weak. 
The time is past for finessing in pohtics : 
the people are too well informed : the ga- 
zettes disclose too much. There is but 
one secret for governing the world ; it is, 
be strong : in strength there can be neither 
error nor deception : it is truth undis- 
guised. 

I felt the weakness of my situation — the 
absurdity of my Consulate. Something so- 
lid was required as a rallying point for the 
revolution. I was named consul for life. 
It was only a life-rent of superiority ; in- 
sufficient in itself, because its duration de- 
pended upon a contingency; and nothing 



61 

ruins confidence like the certainty of a 
change. But it answered for the time in 
which it was adopted. 

Meantime, what had 1 gained by the 
truce of Amiens ? I had hazarded an im» 
prudent expedition, for which I was re- 
proached, and justly, for it was worthless 
in itself. 

I tried to recover St. Domingo ; I had 
good reasons for the attempt. France was 
loo much hated by the allies, to dare to 
remain inactive during the peace : it was 
necessary she should be always formida- 
ble ; and it was necessary to give some 
scope to idle curiosity. The army requi- 
red to be constantly in motion, to prevent 
it from falling off: besides, I was glad to 
exercise our marine. 



6 



62 

The expedition was ill conducted : wher- 
ever I was not present, things went wrong. 
But this was immaterial, as it was easy to 
perceive that the English ministry were 
about to break the truce ; and if we had 
subdued St. Domingo, it would have been 
only for them. 

Every day augmented my security; un- 
til the event of the 3d Nivose showed me 
that I w^as standing upon a volcano. This 
conspiracy was unforeseen ; it was the on- 
ly one which the police had not anticipa- 
ted. It was communicated to but few, and 
therefore remained undiscovered. 

I escaped by miracle : tlie joy testified 
for my escape amply recompensed me. 
The time of the conspiracy was ill chosen : 
nothing was ready for the Bourbons in 
France. 



63 

The guilty were sought for. I can say 
with truth that I accused only the mob- 
patriots ;* for whenever a crime was com- 
mitted, every one was disposed to give 
them the honour of it. I was very much 
astonished, when the result of the inqui- 
ries proved, that the good people of Rue 
St. Nicaise were indebted to the royalisfs 
for being blown up. * 

I fancied the royalists honest, because 
they accused us of not being so ; and I be- 
lieved them incapable of the boldness and 
the villany of such a project. In fact, the 
project was that of a few who robbed stage 
coaches ; a set that was talked of and flat- 
tered, but little respected by the party. 



♦ Brutus du Coin, literally, Brutuses of the Mino- 
ries.— T, 



64 

Thus the royah'sts, who had been quite 
forgotten since the pacification of La Ven- 
dee, re-appeared on the poHtical horizon : 
It was a natural consequence of the in- 
crease of my authority. I was building 
up royalty ; it was poaching upon their 
grounds. 

They never perceived that my monar- 
chy had nothing to do with theirs ; mine 
was all in fact j theirs in right: theirs was 
founded in custom ; mine did without : it 
accorded with the genius of the age; theirs 
struggled to fetter it. 

The republicans were alarmed at the 
height to which circumstances had raised 
me. They distrusted me — they trembled 
lest I should re-establish an old-fashioned 
royalty by the assistance of my army. Some 
of the royalists kept up these reports, and 



65 

delighted to represent me as apeing their 
ancient monarchs : others, more adroit, re- 
presented me as having fallen in love with 
the character of Monk, and that I had ta- 
ken the pains to restore powder, only to 
make a present of it to the Bourbons, whea 
it should be w^orthy of their acceptance. 

Weak minds, who could not fathom me, 
believed these reports. They supported 
the royalists, and endeavoured to render 
me odious to the people and the army^ 
for they began to doubt my attachment 
to their cause. I could not allovr such 
an opinion to gain ground, because it tend- 
ed to disunite us. 

It was necessary, at any price, to unde- 
ceive France, the royalists, and all Europe. 
A persecution in detail against words can 
produce no other than bad effects, because 

6^ 



66 

it does not strike the evil at its root Be- 
sides, it had become impossible in this 
age of public appeal, in which the exile of 
a woman disturbed all France, 

Unfortunately, there happened at this 
important crisis, one of those chances 
which destroy the best resolutions. The 
police discovered some trifling plots of the 
royalists, the source of which was beyond 
the Rhine; an august personage was impli- 
cated in them. All the circumstances 
squared, in an incredible manner, with 
those which led me to strike a decided 
political blow. The death of the Duke 
d'Enghien would put the question that agi- 
tated France at rest. I gave the order. 

A man of great judgment, and who 
ought to know something of these mat- 
ters, said of this outrage, that it was more 



67 

than a crime — it was a fault. Begging 
pardon of that personage — it was a crime, 
and not a fault. I know well the value 
of words. The crime of the unfortu- 
nate prince was confined to a few mise- 
rable intrigues, in concert with some dow- 
ager baronesses at Strasbourg. He was 
playing his game. His intrigues were 
watched, and could neither affect my safe- 
ty, nor that of France, He perished, the 
victim of policy, and a concatenation of 
circumstances. 

His death was not a fault, because all 
the consequences I foresaw came to pass. 

The war with England was renewed, 
because it is impossible for that country to 
remain long at peace. The territory of 
England is become too small for its popu- 
lation. She requires a monopoly of the 



68 

four quarters of the globe to enable her to 
exist. War procures this monopoly, be- 
cause it gives England the right of destruc- 
tion at sea. It is her safeguard. 

The war languished for want of a field 
to fight on. England was obliged to hire 
some of it on the continent ; but the har- 
vest required time to grow. Austria had 
received such severe lessons, that her mi^ 
nisters dared not propose war so soon, how- 
ever willing they might be to earn their 
money. Prussia was thriving in her neu- 
trality. Russia had made a fatal trial of 
war in Switzerland. Italy and Spain had 
entered with but little reservation into my 
system. The continent was at rest 

For want of something better, I set 
about a project for invading England. I 
never thought of realizing it, for it would 



69 

have failed : not that the actual landing 
would have been impossible, but a retreat 
would have been so. There is not a sin- 
gle Englishman who would not have 
taken up arms to save the honour of his 
country ; and the French army, left, with- 
out help, to their mercy, would have pe- 
rished, or surrendered. I made such a 
trial in Egypt indeed, but in London the 
stake was too deep. 

As threats cost nothing, since I had no- 
thing to do with my troops, it was as well 
to keep them in garrison on the coast, as 
elsewhere. This demonstration obliged 
England to adopt a ruinous system of de- 
fence. It was so much gained. 

In revenge, however, there was a con- 
spiracy formed against me. I may give 
the honour of this to the emigrant princes^ 



70 

for it was truly royal. They had set on 
foot an army of conspirators, and accord^- 
ingly we had notice of it within twenty- 
ty four hours ; so trusty were their con- 
fidants. 

However, as I resolved to punish men 
who sought to overturn the state, (which is 
contrary to all laws, divine and human,) I 
was obliged to wait till undeniable proofs 
were collected before I arrested them. 

Pichegru was at the head of these ma- 
chinations. This man, who had more 
bravery than talent, wanted to act the 
part of Monk ; he was cut out for it. 

These schemes gave me little uneasi- 
ness, because I knew their aim, and that 
public opinion did not' favour them. If the 
royalists had assassinated me, they would 



71 

not have been a whit nearer the mark. 
There is a time for all things. 

I soon learnt that Moreau was implica- 
ted in the plot, and this was a delicate af- 
fair to handle, because his popularity was 
tremendous. It was their interest to gain 
him. His reputation was too high for us 
to remain friends. I could not be every 
thing, while he was nothing. I wished to 
find a decent pretext for separating. He 
furnished it. 

It was said that I was jealous of him : 
there was but little truth in this; but he 
was very jealous of me, and with reason. 
I esteemed him, because he was a good sol- 
dier. His friends were those who hated 
me ; that is to say, a great many. They 
would have made him a hero, had he been 
put to death. I resolved to show him as 



72 

he was — a man of no influence. 1 suc- 
ceeded ; absence was fatal to him ; his 
friends forgot him, and he has been no 
more thought of. 

Less delicacy was required with regard 
to the other criminals. They were old 
hackneyed conspirators, of whom it was 
important to purge France for ever. We 
succeeded ; for from that time they never 
re-appeared. 

I was overwhelmed with petitions. All 
the women and children in Paris were in 
commotion. Every body's pardon was 
sued for. I had the weakness to send a 
few of the criminals to the state prisons, 
instead of allowing justice to take its 
course. 



I even now regret this kind of indul- 



73 

gence, because in a sovereign it is nothing 
more than a culpable weakness. He has 
but one duty to fulfil towards the state; 
that of enforcing the laws. Every com- 
promise with crime becomes a crime in 
the crown. The prerogative of mercy 
ought never to be exerted in favour of the 
guilty ; it should be reserved for those un- 
fortunate persons who are absolved by con- 
science, though condemned by law. 

Pichegru was found strangled in his bed. 
Of course it was said to be by my orders. 
I was totally ignorant concerning the mat- 
ter. I cannot perceive what interest I 
could have had in anticipating his public 
execution. He was not better than the 
others ; and I had a tribunal to judge him, 
and soldiers to shoot him. I never did a 
useless act in my life*, 



74 

My authority increased, because it had 
been threatened. Nothing in France was 
prepared for a counter-revolution. The 
public regarded the intrigues of the royal- 
ists as only calculated to bring on the hor- 
ror of civil war and anarchy. The people 
wished at any price to avert these evils, 
and rallied round me, because I promised 
to defend them. France sought repose 
under the shelter of my sword. The pub- 
lic voice — (history will not contradict me) 
- — the public voice called me to the throne 
of France, 

The republican form of government 
Gould no longer exist, because ancient mo- 
narchies will not be converted into repub- 
lics. The desire of France was national 
greatness. To raise and sustain the edifice 
of national greatness, it was requisite to 
destroy faction, to consolidate the labours 



75 

of the revolution, and to fix irrevocably 
the limits of the state. I alone promised 
France to fulfil these conditions. France 
called me to reign over her. 

I could not become a king; the title was 
worn out; it excited definite and precon- 
ceived ideas ; and it was important that my 
title, like the nature of my power, should 
be new. I was not the heir of the Bour- 
bons. No common man could venture to 
sit on their throne. I took the name of 
Emperor — because it was greater, and less 
defined. 

Never was revolution so peaceable as 
that which overturned the republic for 
which so much blood had been shed. It 
was because the thing was still the same; 
the name alone was chang:ed. On these 
grounds the republicans did not dread the 
empire. 



76 

Besides, such revolutions as do not in- 
terfere with the interests of individuals, 
are ahvays peaceable. 

The revolution was at length accom- 
plished. It became inexpugnable under a 
permanent dynasty. The republic had 
only satisfied opinion ; the empire guaran- 
tied private interest as well as public 
opinion. 

These interests were those of an im- 
mense majority, because the empire con- 
firmed equality. Democracy, both in fact 
and in right, existed. Liberty alone had 
been restricted, because it is worse thafl 
useless in moments of danger ; for liber- 
ty is of no use to any but the enlightened 
part of the nation ; equality is valuable to 
all. Hence my power remained popular 
even amidst the reverses which have ovei;:j| 
whelmed France. 



77 

My authority did not rest, like that of 
the old monarchies, upon a scaffolding of 
castes and subordinate ranks ; it was im* 
mediate and self-dependent ; for the em- 
pire consisted only of the nation and myself. 
But in that nation all were equally called 
to the exercise of public functions. The 
point of departure was no obstacle. A 
disposition upwards was universal in the 
state, and in this disposition consisted my 
strength. 

I did not invent this system; it arose 
out of the ruins of the Bastile. It is the 
result of the moral civilization which time 
has wrought in Europe ; all attempts to 
destroy it will be vain; it will be main- 
tained by the nature of things, because 
practice will always ultimately be found to 
conform to power. Power was no longer 
in the hands of the nobility, from the raa- 
7f ^ 



78 

inent they declined servlag as the sole mi- 
litia of the state, and permitted the iier^- 
etat to bear arms^ 

Power abandoned the clergy when th^ 
|>eople, by beginning to reason, had vir- 
tually become protestants. It aban- 
doned government because the nobili- 
ty and clergy were disabled from fulfil- 
ling their offices ; that is to say, because 
they could no longer support the throne. 
Routine and prejudice had also lost their 
power, because routine and prejudice had 
feeen unmasked before the people. 

The social compact was dissolved long 
before the revolution, because things andv 
ipvords had ceased to coincide. 

The downfall of prejudice had laid bare 
the sources of power ; its weakness was 
discovered ; it fell on the first assault 



79 

Authority was, therefore, to be built up 
again upon a new plan. The whole train 
of habits and prejudices were to be passed 
over : that mental blindness, called faith, 
was to be of no avaiL There weie no in- 
herited rights, but every thing was to rest 
upon fact — that is, power. 

Thus I did not mount the throne like- 
the heir of an ancient dynasty, to sit there 
luxuriously under the shadow of habit and 
illusion, but I placed myself there to exe- 
cute the institutions willed by the people ; 
to wield the law under the sanction of 
moral right; and to render France for- 
midable, in order to maintain her indepen- 
dence^ 

The opportunity was soon afforded, 
England was tired of seeing my troops 
Upon the coastr She resolved to get rid 



of them, and, purse in hand, she sought 
allies on the continent. She could not fail 
to find them. 

The ancient dynasties were appalled at 
seeing me on the throne. Whatever ci- 
vilities might pass between us, it was too 
clear that I was not on« of them ; for I 
reigned by virtue of a system which must 
break down the altar time had consecrated 
to them. I was in myself a revolution. 
The empire was not less dreadful to them 
than the republic : in fact, they feared it 
more — for it was more healthy. 

It was pohcy to attack me as soon as 
possible, before I attained to my full 
strength. 

The chances of the struggle about td 
take place were of the last importance to 



81 

ine. I was to learn the very measure of 
the hatred I inspired. I was to learn which 
were the sovereigns whom fear would 
force to fall in with the system of the em- 
pire, and which of them would perish ra- 
ther than coalesce with it. 

This struggle could not but lead to new 
political combinations in Europe, I was 
to fall, or to become its master. 

I had just annexed Piedmont to France, 
because it was necessary that Lombardy 
should be dependent on the empire. The 
cry was raised against ambition ; the lists 
were prepared for the fight ; the act of 
annexation was the signal for it. 

The battle could not fall of being ob- 
stinate. The Austrians assembled all their 
forces, and the Russians were determined 
to join with all theirs. 



82 

The joung Alexander had just ascend- 
ed the throne : as children hke to do the 
contrary of what their fathers have done, he 
declared war against me, because his fa- 
ther had made peace. For we had as 
jet no quarrel with the Russians ; but the 
women and the courtiers had settled the 
matter. They thought they were only act- 
ing in good taste, because 1 was not the fash- 
ion in the great world ; while, unconscious- 
ly, they were laying the foundations of the 
system to which Russia will one day owe 
her greatness. 

The coalition never opened a campaign 
more awkwardly. The* Austrians fancied 
they could take me by surprise, but their 
scheme was unsuccessful. 

They overran Bavaria without waiting 
for the Russians; by forced marches they 



83 

reached the Rhine. My columns had 
quitted the camp of Boulogne ; they were 
marching through France ; we crossed the 
Rhine at Strabbourg. My advanced guard 
met the Austrians at Ulm, and routed 
them. I marched upon Vienna by the 
high road; I entered it without an obsta- 
cle. An Austrian general had forgotten 
to destroy the bridges over the Danube. 
I crossed the river; I should have done 
so at all events, but I was the sooner in 
Moravia. 

The Russians were but just coming up : 
the wreck of the Austrians sought safety 
under their banners. The enemy attempt- 
ed to make a stand at Austerlitz ; he was 
beaten. The Russians retired in o-ood or- 
der, and left me the empire of Austria. 



The Emperor Francis demanded an in- 



84 

terview; 1 granted him one In a ditch* 
He sued for peace — I gave it him ; for 
what could I have made of his dominions ? 
they were not moulded for the revolution. 
But, to weaken him, I demanded Venice 
for Lombard J, and the Tyrol for Bavaria, 
that I might reward my friends at the ex- 
pense of my enemies — it was the least I 
could do. 

It was, however, not a time to dispute : 
peace was signed. I proposed the same 
terms to the Russians; Alexander refused 
theme 

This was noble : for by accepting peace^ 
he would have accepted the humiliation of 
Austria. 

By refusing, he showed firmness under 
dalamity, and confidence in fortune^ Th© 



85 

l-efusal itself taught me that the fate of the 
world would depend on us two. 

The campaign was renewed : I followed 
the Russians in their retreat. A new 
theatre opened itself to our arms. I was 
about to see the old ground of anarchy 
and of liberty bent under the yoke of a 
stranger: the Poles only waited my arri- 
val in order to throw it off. 

The greatest error T committed during 
my reign was neglecting the advantages I 
might have derived from the Poles. I 
perceived the importance of restoring 
Poland, that it might be a barrier against 
Russia, and counterbalance Austria; but 
circumstances were not at that time fa- 
vourable for realizing such a plan. 

Besides, the Poles did not appear to me 
8 



86 

fit for my designs. They are an enthu- 
siastic, but frivolous people. They do 
every thing from fancy — nothing from sys- 
tem : their enthusiasm is strong, but they 
can neither regulate nor prolong it. The 
nation bears its ruin in its character. 

Perhaps by giving the Poles a plan, a 
system, a fixed object, they might have 
formed themselves in time. 

Although my disposition was not to do 
things by halves, I did no more in Poland 
— and I repented it. I advanced in the 
midst of winter toward the north; the 
climate did not at all alarm the soldiers; 
their moral state was excellent. I had to 
fight an army, master of its own ground, 
and in its own climate. It awaited me on 
the frontiers of Russia ; I sought it there, 
that my troops might not languish and 



waste in wretched cantonments. I met 
the enemy at Ejlau : the affair was bloody 
and indecisive. 

If the Russians had attacked us the next 
day, we should have been beaten; but 
happily their generals are seldom inspired. 
They gave me time to attack them at 
Friedland — victory was less doubtful. 
Alexander had defended himself valiantly 
— he proposed peace. It was honourable 
to both nations, for they had struggled 
with equal bravery. Peace was signed at 
Tilsit ; it was in the spirit of good faith : 
I attest the Czar himself 

Such was the issue of the first efforts of 
the coalition against the empire I had just 
founded. It raised Ihe glory of our arms, 
but it left the question undecided between 
Europe and me, for our enemies had only 



88 

been humbled ; they were neither destroj- 
ed nor changed. We were at the point 
whence we set out ; and when I signed the 
articles of peace, I foresaw a new war. 

War was inevitable as long as the chao- 
ces brought about no new combinations, 
and as long as England should have a per- 
sonal interest in prolonging it. 

But it was important to make use of the 
temporary tranquillity I had restored on 
the continent, to enlarge the basis of my 
empire, that it might be possessed of suf- 
ficient solidity to resist a future attack. 
The throne was hereditary in my family, 
which thus began a new dynasty, that 
time, which has legitimated so many 
others, might consecrate. From the days 
of Charlemagne no crown had been be- 
stowed with equal solemnity. I had re- 



89 

ceived it with the consent of the people 
and the sanction of the church : my family, 
called to the throne, could not remain 
mingled among the ordinary classes of so- 
ciety — it would have been an incongruity, 

I was rich in conquests. It was requi- 
site, to unite these states intimately with 
the system of the empire, in order to in- 
crease its preponderance. There are no 
bonds between nations but those of com- 
mon interest. Therefore, a community 
of interests between us and the conquered 
countries was absolutely necessary. To 
accomplish this end, I had only to assimi- 
late their ancient social constitution to 
ours, and to place at the head of these new 
institutions, rulers interested in maintain- 
ing them. 



g* 



90 

I accomplished these purposes by pla- 
cing mj family on the vacant thrones* 

Lombardy was the most important of 
these states, because the house of Austria 
must for ever reofret it. I did not choose 
to do it the favour of placing one of my bro- 
thers on its throne. I alone was able to 
bear the iron erown, and I put it upon my 
own head. 

By this measure I gave confidence to 
the Lombards, for by it I took their affairs 
into my own hands. 

The new state received the name of the 
kingdom of Italy, because the title was 
greater, and spoke more directly to the 
imagination of the Italians. 

The throne of Naples was vacant. 



91 

Queen Caroline, after having deluged the 
streets of Naples with blood, and given 
up the kingdom to the English, had been 
driven out a second time. That unhappy 
country needed a master to save it from 
anarchy, and from the effects of revenge. 
One of my brothers ascended the throne. 

Holland had long lost the energy which 
constitutes a republic. She had no longer 
sufficient strength to play that part. There 
had been proofs of this, at the trme of the 
invasion in 99. I had no reason to suspect, 
that the Prince of Orange was regrettedj 
from the manner in which he had been 
treated. Holland, then, seemed to need a 
sovereign. I gave her another of my 
brotherso, 

The youngest was young enough to 
wait. The fourth had no desire for a 
crown ; he had fled to avoid one. 



92 

No republic remained but Switzerland 
It was not worth while to change the 
form to which its people were accustom* 
ed. The only one I made of my authority 
in that country, was to prevent them cut- 
ting each other's throats. They were not 
particularly grateful. 

But while thus forming states in alliance 
with France, and dependent on the empire, 
it became necessary to incorporate with 
the mother country other portions of ter- 
ritory, in order to preserve its preponder- 
ance in the system. 

For this reason I joined Piedmont to 
France, and not to Italy. I also added to 
it Genoa and Parma. These additions 
were worthless in themselves, for I might 
have made good Italians of these people ; 
they became but sorry Frenchmen. But 



93 

the empire did not consist of France alone^ 
but of the family estates, and of foreign 
allies. It was essential to keep a certain 
proportion between these elements. Every 
new alliance required a new annexation. 
At every step the people raised the cry of 
ambition. But my ambition did not con- 
sist in wishing for a few square leagues, 
more or less, of laud, but in the triumph of 
my cause. 

Now, this cause consisted not solely in 
opinion, but in the weight that either 
party could place in the balance, and 
these square leagues were of consequence 
in the scale, because the world is made up 
of such. 

Thus I augmented the mass of power 
that I set in motion. It required neither 
talent nor address to bring about these 



94. 

changes. An act of my will sufficed ; for 
these nations were too petty to have one 
of their own when I appeared. They de- 
pended ■ on the momentum given to the 
aggregate of the imperial system. The 
radiating point of that system was France. 

My work required consolidation by giv- 
infi: France new institutions conformable 
to the new social order she had adopted. 
The age was to be created anew for me, 
as I had been for it. 

I had to become a legislator, after hav- 
ing been a warrior. 

It was not possible to make the revolu- 
tion retrace its steps ; for that wauld have 
been making the strong submit anew to 
the weak, which is unnatural. I had, 
therefore, to seize the spirit of the times. 



95 

and to form an analogous system of legis- 
lation. I think I succeeded — the system 
will survive me ; and I have left Europe 
an inheritance which can never be alien- 
ated. 

There was, in fact, nothing in the state 
but a huge democracy, swayed by a dic- 
tator. This kind of government is con- 
venient as to the executive part ; but its 
nature is temporary, because, in the hands 
of a dictator, power is but a life-rent. I 
sought to make it perpetual, by lasting in- 
stitutions and corporations for hfe,, that I 
might place them between the throne and 
the democracy. I could do nothing with 
the old implements of custom and delu- 
sion. I was obliged to create every thing 
anew by realities. 

Thus I was forced to found my princi- 



96 

pies of legislation upon the immediate inte- 
rests of the majority, and to create ray cor- 
porations by that interest, because interest 
is, of all earthly things, the most real and 
durable. 

I made laws, the activity of which was 
stupendous, but uniform. Their principle 
was to maintain equality. This is so 
strongly impressed upon my code, that, of 
itself, it will suffice to preserve it. 

I instituted an intermediate caste. It 
was democratical, because it was always 
open to all ; it was monarchical, because 
it could not die. 

This body was to perform that part in 
the new system which the nobility had 
acted in the old ; that is, to support the 
throne. But it resembled it in nothing. 
The ancient nobility existed entirely by 



97 

privilege. Mine had nothing but power. 
The ancient nobility had no merit but 
that of being exclusive. Every man w^ho 
had distinguished himself had a right to 
belong to the new : it was, in fact, only a 
civic crown. The people attached to it 
no other idea. Every member had de- 
served It by his actions ; every man might 
obtain it at the same price ; it was offen- 
sive to none. 

The desire for promotion was the main 
spring of action ; it is the characteristic of 
revolutions. It agitated the whole nation^ 
Ambition had seized the public mind. I 
encouraged this spirit by splendid rewards; 
they were bestowed by public gratitude. 
The highest honours were still conforma- 
ble to the spirit of eqaulity ; for the mean- 
est soldier might obtain them by brilliant 
actions, 

:9 



98 

After the confusion of the revolution it 
was of consequence to re-establish good or- 
der, because it is the sign of strength and 
durability. 

Ministers and judges were essential to 
the state ; for on them alone depended the 
maintenance of good order, that is to say, 
the execution of the laws. I inspired 
them with the spirit which animated the 
people and the army. I bestowed on them 
the same rewards. I created them mem- 
bers of an order which had been rendered 
splendid by military achievement. I 
made it common to all the servants of the 
public, because the first of virtiXes is devo 
tion to one's country. 5^ 

Thus I converted the national enthusi- 
asm into a general bond, which united all 
classes by a mutual interest ; for no class 



\ 



99 

was subordinate — no class was exclusive. 
An intermediate body, culled from the 
flower of the nation, formed around me. 
It was attached to the imperial system by 
its avocations, its interests, and its opin- 
ions. This numerous body, although in- 
vested with the civil and military power, 
was acknowledged by the people, because 
it was chosen from among themselves. 
They confided in it, because their interests 
were the same with its own. This body 
was neither oppressive nor exclusive. It 
was in reality a magistracy. 

The empire rested on a vigorous or- 
ganization. The army had been formed 
in the school of war, where it had learned 
to fight and to suffer. 

The civil magistrates had accustomed 
themselves to a strict execution of the 



100 

laws, because I forbad either compromisfe 
or explanation. Thus they became pos- 
sessed of practice and despatch. I had 
given a regular and uniform impulse, be- 
cause there was but one watch-word 
throughout the empire. Thus every spring 
in the machine was in motion, but the 
movements took place only within tha 
bounds I had assigned. 

I put a stop to public dilapidation by 
making one central point for all exchequer 
business. I left nothing vague in this de^ 
partment; because every thing should b^ 
clear with regard to money. I left nothing 
in the power of the demi-responsible pro- 
vincial officers, because I had found, by 
experience, that such a plan serves only ta 
enrich a few petty peculators at the ex- 
pense of the treasury, the people, and th^ 
government. 



101 

I redeemed public credit by taking no- 
thing on credit. 

For the system of loans, which had 
ruined France, I substituted that of taxa- 
tion, which has supported it. 

I organized the conscription — a severe, 
but grand law, and well worthy of a peo- 
ple which cherishes its glory and its liber- 
ty; for it should entrust its defence to none 
but itself. 

I opened new channels of commerce. I 
u uted Italy to France by cutting through 
the Alps in four different places, v ^l^he va-» 
rious improvements of this nature which I: 
accomplished appear almost impossible. . 

Icaused agriculture to prosper by main- 
taining the laws which protect private pro- 
9* 



102 

perty, and by distributing the public bur- 
dens equally. 

I added great monuments to those al- 
ready possessed by France, They were 
to be the memorials of its glory. I 
thought they would ennoble the minds of 
©ur descendants. The people became at- 
tached to these proud land-marks of their 
history. 

My throne shone only with the lustre of 
arms. The French love grandeur even in 
its outward show. I caused palaces to be 
decorated. I assembled a numerous court: 
I gave it a character of austerity, for any 
other would have been incongruous. There 
were no amusements at my court. There- 
fore women played but an insignificant 
part, where every thing was consecrated 
to the state. Indeed, they always detestei' 



103 

me for that reason. Louis XV. suited 
them much better. 

My great work was hardly sketched out 
when a new enemy appeared unexpected- 
ly in the hsts. 

Prussia had remained at peace for ten 
years; Fiance had been grateful for it; 
the alhes were enraged at it: they had 
abused her, but she had prospered. 

Her neutrality had been of peculiar im- 
portance to me during the last campaign ; 
to secure it I had made some overtures re- 
specting a cession of Hanover. I thought 
such an offer amply compensated for a 
slight violation of territory which I had 
permitted, in order to accelerate the march 
of a division, which I was in haste to have 
•n the Danube* 



104 

England having rejected the proposals 
for peace which we had transmitted to her 
according to our custom, when we signed 
the treaty of Tilsit, Prussia demanded the 
cession of Hanover. 

I was willing to bestow this boon upon 
her ; but I thought it high time for her 
court to declare itself frankly for us, by 
embracing our system in good earnest. We 
could not do every thing by the sword j 
policy should also be resorted to, and this 
appeared a fair opportunity for its exercise. 

But I perceived that Prussia had no such 
intentions, and that she thought I was am-^ 
ply repaid by her neutrality. It therefore 
became absurd to aggrandize a country I 
could not depend upon. I was out of hu« 
mour; and did not calculate sufficiently 
that, by giving territory to Prussia, L should 



105 

conciliate her, and ensure her support. I 
Fefused every thing, and Hanover was 
otherwise disposed of. 

The Prussians complained loudly, be- 
cause I would not give them the property 
of another. They murmured at the slight 
violation of their territory the preceding 
year. They suddenly found out that they 
were the guardians of the glory of Frede- 
rick the Great ; they grew warm. A sort 
of national tumult agitated the nobility; 
England hastened to subsidize them, and 
their movements acquired consistency. 

If the Prussians had attacked me while 
I was at war with Russia, they might have 
done me a serious injury; but it was so 
absurd to come, right or wrong, and de- 
clare war against us, more in the manner 
af ^ school-boy's rebellion than any thing 



106 

else, that it was some time before I could 
credit it. 

Nothing was, however, more true; and 
we were again obliged to take the field. 

1 certainly expected to beat the Prus- 
sians ; but I thought it would require more 
time. I took measures to repel such ag- 
gressions as I suspected might be made 
against me in other quarters ; but I found 
them unnecessary. 

By a singular chance, the Prussians did 
not hold out two hours. By another 
chance, their generals had never thought 
of defending places that might have held 
out three months. I was master of the 
country in a few days. 

The celerity of this overthrow proved 



107 

to me that the war had not been popular 
in Prussia. I ought to have profited bj 
this discovery, and to have organized 
Prussia after our own plans ; but I neglect- 
ed this important step. 

The empire had acquired an immense 
preponderance by the battle of Jena The 
public began to look upon my cause as 
won : I perceived it by the change of mea- 
sures towards me : I began to believe the 
same thing myself; and this opinion made 
me commit errors. 

The system on which 1 had founded the 
empire was innately at variance with all 
the ancient dynasties. I knew that there 
must be mortal strife between them and 
me. Vigorous means were, therefore, to be 
taken to shorten it as much as possible, in 



108 

order to gain the suffrages of kings and 
nations. 

On the one hand, I should have changed 
the form and personal government of all 
the states that war placed at my disposal, 
because revolutions are not brought about 
by continuing the same men and the same 
measures. I ought to have known, that, 
by preserving those governments, I should 
have them always against me : it was re- 
calling my enemies to life. 

If, on the other hand, I chose to retain 
the old governments, I ought to have 
made them sharers in my greata.e^s, by 
forcing them to accept of titles and terri- 
tory, together with my alliance. 

By following either of these plans, ac*- 
wording to circumstances, I should have 



J09 

extended the frontiers of the revolution 
rapidly. Our alliances would have been 
solid, because they would have been made 
with the people : I should have bestowed 
on them the advantages, together with 
the principles, of the revolution : I should 
have removed the scourge of war which 
had afflicted them for twenty years, and 
which ended by raising them all against 
us. 

It is most probable that the majority of 
the nations of the continent would have ac- 
cepted this grand alliance, and Europe 
would have been recast on a new plan 
analogous to the state of her civilization. 

I reasoned well, but acted ill. Instead 

of changing the Prussian dynasty, as I had 

threatened, I restored their estates, after 

having parcelled them out. Poland was 

10 



110 

not pleased, because I did not free the 
portion of her territory that Prussia had 
seized. The kingdom of Westphaha was 
discontented at not obtaining more ; and 
Prussia, enraged at what I had taken away, 
vowed eternal hatred towards me. 

I fancied, I know not why, that kings, 
dispossessed by the right of conquest, 
might become grateful for any part of 
their dominions that might be left them. I 
fancied that they might, after all their re- 
verses, become sincere allies, because it 
was safest to do so. I fancied that I might 
thus extend the connexions of the empire 
without taking on myself the odium of re- 
volution. I thought there was something 
noble in takmgaway and restormg crowns. 
I allowed myself to be seduced by it. I 
was mistaken, and such faults can never be 
jepaired. 



Ill 

I tried at least to correct what I had 
done in Prussia, by organizing the confe- 
deration of the Rhine, because 1 hoped to 
keep one in check by the other. To form 
this confederation, I aggrandized the states 
of some sovereigns, at the expense of those 
of a rabble of petty princes, who answered 
no end but that of dissipating the money 
of their subjects, without doing them any 
good. I thus attached to my cause the 
sovereigns whose power I had enlarged, 
by the very interest of their aggrandize- 
ment. I made them conquerors in spite 
of themselves. But they found the trade 
agree with them. They were sufficiently 
willing to make common cause with mCj 
and they were faithful to that cause as 
long as u was possible. 

The continent was thus at peace for the 
fourth time. I had extended the surface 



112 

and the weight of the Empire. My imme*' 
diate power extended from the Adriatic 
to the mouths of the Weser : my power 
over opinion throughout all Europe. 

But Europe felt, as I did, that this pacH 
fication could not be durable, because 
there were too manj conflicting elements, 
and that bj compromising, I had only put 
off the evil day. 

England was the vital principle of re* 
sistance. I had no means of attacking her 
hand to hand, and I was sure that the con- 
tinental war would be perpetually renewed 
as long as the English ministry had where- 
with to pay its expenses. Thi^ight last 
long, as the profits of the war would feed 
the war. It was a vitious circle, the re- 
sult of which must be the ruin of the Con- 
tinent, A means was therefore to be de- 



113 

vised for destroying the profits which En- 
gland derived from maritime war, in order 
to ruin the credit of the Enghsh ministry. 
To this end the continental system was 
proposed to me. I thought it good, and 
adopted it. Few people understood that 
system ; they determined to see nothing 
in it but a scheme to raise the price of 
coffee. Its design was widely different. 

It was to have ruined the trade of En- 
gland. But in that it failed of its purpose, 
for, like other prohibitions, it produced in- 
creased prices, which are always favoura- 
ble to commerce; and because it could- 
not be so complete as to prevent a contra^f- 
band tradco 

But the continental system was also to 
answer the purpose of plainly marking out 
our friends and foes* There could be no 

10^- 



114 

deception here^ Attachment to the con- 
tinental system betokened attachment to 
our cause, for that system was at once our 
banner and palladium. 

This contested system was mdispensa- 
ble at the time I adopted it ; for a great 
empire must not only have a general ten- 
dency to direct its policy, but its economy 
ought to have a parallel direction. In- 
dustry must have a vent like every thing 
else, in order to act and to prosper. 
France had none until I opened one by es- 
tablishing the continental system. 

Before the Revolution, the economy of 
France had been turned towards thecolo» 
nies, and exchange. It was thei^ashion of 
the day. It had great success. But, 
liowever much that success might be ex- 
tolled^ its only conseq^uence was the ruia 



115 

af the state finance, the destruction of pub- 
lic credit, the overthrow of the mihtarj 
system, the loss of all respect abroad, and 
the ruin of agriculture. And, finally,, 
these successes had led France to sign a 
treaty of commerce, which made her de- 
pendent on England for supplies. 

France, indeed, possessed fine seaports,^ 
and some merchants of enormous fortune^ 

The maritime system had been com- 
pletely destroyed by the war; the sea- 
ports were ruined : no human power could 
restore to them what the revolution had 
annihilated. It, therefore, required a fresh 
impulse to be given to the spirit of trade, 
in order 4o revive the domestic industry of 
France. The only means to accomplish 
this was to deprive England of the mono- 
poly of manufactures, to create a manufac- 



TI6 

luring interest, and to include it in the 
general economj of the state. I was 
forced to create the continental system. 

Nothing less than this system could 
avail, because the manufactures required 
an enormous premium to induce capitalists 
to advance the sums necessary for the es- 
tablishment of the whole manufactories of 
a country. 

The event was in my favour ; I removed 
the seat of industry, and made it cross the 
sea. It has made such rapid strides on 
the Continent, that it has now nothing to 
fear. If France wishes to thrive, let her 
keep my system, and change its name ; if 
she chooses to fall ofF^ let her engage in 
maritime pursuits, which the English will 
destroy the first time they go to war. I 
[ was forced to carry the continental system 
to extremities, because I had in view UB^i. 



117 * 

onlj the good of France, but the annoy-^ 
arxce of England. We could receive co^ 
lonial produce only through her, whatever 
flag might be borrowed for the occasion, 
therefore we received as Httle as possible. 
There was no better way of doing this 
than raising the prices to an extravagant 
height. The political end was fulfilled; 
the exchequer gained by it, but it drove 
the old women to despair, and they have 
had their revenge. Daily experience 
proved the expediency of the continental 
system, for the state flourished in spite of 
the burden of the war. The taxes were 
entire ; public credit was equal to the in- 
terest of money ; the spirit of improvement 
appeared in agriculture as well as manu- 
factures ; country villages, not less than 
the streets of Paris, were rebuilt; roads 
and canals encouraged the industry of the 
interior j some new improvement appear- 



llB 

ed weekly : I made sugar from turnips, 
and soda from salt. The development of 
science kept pace with industry. 

It would have been folly to depart from 
a system at the very moment when it was 
producing its fruits. It required rather to 
be strengthened, that it might have a 
greater hold on commercial emulation. 

This influenced the policy of Europe^ 
inasmuch as it obliged England to carry 
©n the war. From that moment the war 
assumed a serious character in England ; 
it threatened the fortune of the public, that 
is to say, its very existence. It became 
popular. The English ceased to commit 
their defence to foreign auxiliaries ; they 
took it upon themselves, and appeared on 
the Continent in large bodies. The strug- 
gle had nevQr been perilous till then. I 



119 

foresaw it when I signed the decree. I 
suspected that all repose was at an end 
for me, and that wy Hfe would be spent in 
wresthng with obstacles which the public 
had lost sight of, but of which I possessed 
the secret, because I am the only man 
whom appearances never deceived. In 
my heart I flattered myself that I should 
be master of the future, by means of the 
army I had formed, so invincible did suc- 
cess seem to have made it. It never 
doubted of victory ; it was easily moved, 
because we had exploded the system of 
camps and magazines. It could be trans- 
ported in any direction at a moment's 
warning ; and wherever it arrived it felt a 
conscious superiority. With such sol- 
diers, where is the general who would 
not have loved glory? I loved it, I own ; 
and yet, since the battle of Jena I had 
never felt that plenitude of confidence, 



12a 

that contempt of consequences, to which I 
owed my first successes. I distrusted my- 
self; that distrust made me uncertain in 
my decisions ; my temper was ruffled, my 
character low^ered. I did command my- 
self, but what is not natural, is never per- 
fect. 

The continental system had determined 
the English to war with us even to the 
death. The North was subdued and over- 
awed by my garrisons. The English had 
no connexion with it but in smuggling; 
but Portugal had been given up to them ; 
and I knew that Spain, under the mask of 
neutrality, favoured her commerce. 

But that the continental system should 
l>e of real use, it required to be complete. 
I had nearly accomplished it in the north; 
it was of consequence to cause it to be re™ 



121 

spected in the south. I demanded a pas- 
sage through Spain for a division of troops 
I wished to send into Portugal. It was 
granted. At the approach of my troops 
the court of Lisbon embarked for the Bra- 
zils, and left me its kingdom. I required 
a military road through Spain to commu- 
nicate with Portugal. This road con- 
nected us with Spain. Till then I had 
never thought of that country, on account 
of its inefficiency. 

The political state of Spain was at that 
time alarming; it was governed by the 
most incapable of sovereigns ; a brave and 
worthy man, whose energies went no far- 
ther than to secure implicit obedience to 
the favourite. The favourite, without 
character and without talents, had neither 
pursuit nor energy, but what were em- 
11 



122 

ployed in incessant demands for titles and 
riches. 

The favourite was devoted to me, be- 
cause he found it convenient to govern un- 
der the shadow of my alliance. But he 
had conducted aifairs so ill, that his credit 
had sunk in Spain. He could no longer 
command obedience. His devotion to me 
became useless. 

Public opinion in Spain had been pro- 
ceeding in a line contrary to that of the 
rest of Europe. The people, v/ho eyery 
where else had risen to the level of the re- 
volution, had remained here far beneath 
it; enlightened notions, had not even 
penetrated to the second class. They 
had rested on the surface ; that is, they 
were confined to the highest classes. — 
These felt the degradation of their coun- 



123 

try, and blushed to obey a government 
which was debasing their native land. 
They were called the Liberales. 

Thus the revolutionists in Spain were 
those who might lose by a revolution ; and 
those who had all to gain would not hear 
4){ it. The same incongruity operated at 
Naples. It made me commit many errors, 
because I was not then possessed of th© 
key to the mystery. 

The presence of my troops in Spain ex- 
cited strong sensations. Every body set 
about interpreting it. People were occu- 
pied by it. Some fermentation appeared. 
I soon learned it. The Liberales were sen- 
sible of the humiliation of their country; 
they thought to prevent its ruin by a con- 
spiracy : the conspiracy succeeded. 



124 

It went no further than forcing^ the old 
king to abdicate, and punishing his fa- 
vourite. Spain was no gainer by the ex- 
change, for the son they placed on the 
throne was no better than the father. I 
am well informed at least on that head. 

The conspiracy had scarcely succeeded, 
when the conspirators took fright at their 
©wn daring. They were afraid of them- 
selves — of me — of every body. The monks 
disapproved of the violence committed 
against their old king, because it w^s ille- 
gitimate. I disapproved of it no less, but 
for a different reason. Fear took posses- 
sion of the new court; the spirit of revolt 
seized the people, and anarchy the state. 

The natural course of things had thus 
brought about a change in Spain; a revolu- 
tion in fact was begun. It could not be of 



125 

the same nature as that in France, because 
it was composed of different elements. 
But till then it had no direction, because 
it had neither chief nor partisans before- 
hand. It was as yet only a suspension of 
authority ; a subversion of power ; in short, 
disorder. 

There was nothing to be predicted con- 
cerning Spain, but that with so ignorant 
and ferocious a people a revolution could 
not be accomplished without torrents of 
blood and a long series of calamity. 

But what was the end proposed by those 
who wished for a change in Spain ? It was 
not a revolution like ours : it was an effi- 
cient government : a rational authority 
which might remove the rust which ob- 
scured their country, and restore it to 



11* 



126 

consideration abroad, and civilization at 
borne. 

I was able to give them both, by making 
myself master of their revolution at the 
point to which they had brought it. The 
object was to give Spain a dynasty, which 
should be strong because it was new, and 
enhghtened because it should bring with 
it no prejudices. Mine combined these 
qualities. I therefore resolved to bestow 
this crown also upon it. 

The most difficult step towards this end 
was taken — that of getting rid of the old 
dynasty. But the Spaniards had allowed 
their old king to be forced to abdicate the 
crown, and they would not acknowledge 
the new one. Every thing therefore seem- 
ed to promise, that in order to avoid anar- 
chy^ Spain would be glad to accept a sove- 



127 

reign armed with a prodigious power. Bj 
that means it would have easily stept into 
the rays of the imperial circle; and how- 
ever deplorable the social state of Spain 
might be, it was a conquest not to be neg- 
lected. 

In order to form a just idea of things, 
one should see them one's self; I therefore 
set out for Bayonne, to which place I had 
invited the old Spanish court. As it had 
nothing better to do, it came. I had alsa 
invited the new court. I really did not 
expect it to arrive, because it had some- 
thins: much better to do* 

I had calculated, that to prevent Ferdi* 
nand from meeting either hi& father or 
me, they would have led him to revolt, 
or engaged him to go to America. He 
did neither? but came to Bayonne with bi^ 



128 

tutor and courtiers, leaving Spain to the? 
first comer. 

This single step gave me the measure 
of the court. I had scarce spoken to the 
heads of the conspiracy, when I perceiv- 
ed their total ignorance of their real situa- 
tion. They were prepared for nothing, 
therefore, saw nothing ; their poHcy seem- 
ed like the bhnd leading the bhnd.* I 
had scarcely seen the king they had set 
upon the throne before I was satisfied 
that Spain ought not to be left in such 
hands. 

I then resolved to accept the abdication 
of this family, and to place one of my 
brothers on the throne, now abandoned by 

* lis menaient leur politique comme des quinze vingt 
i. e. the inhabitants of the asylum /or the blind so 
named. 



129 

old possessors; they descended from 
It so easily, that I thought he might mount 
it with as httle difficulty. 

In fact, nothing seemed to oppose it ; the 
Junta of Ba^onne had acknowledged him ; 
no legal power remained in Spain to refuse 
the change ; the old king seemed grateful 
to me for taking the throne from his son, 
and had retired quietly to repose himself 
at Compiegne. His son was conducted to 
the castle of Valencay, where all neces- 
sary preparations had been made for his 
reception. 

The Spaniards knew exactly what they 
had parted with in their old king; he left 
behind him neither regret nor remem- 
brance; but the son was jet young; his 
reign had been hoped for. He was un- 
fortunate ; they converted him into a hero : 



130 

imaorination exerted itself in his favour. 

o 

The Liberales clamoured for national in- 
dependence; the monks talked of legiti- 
macy : the whole nation armed itself under 
these two pretexts, 

I confess I was wrong to shut up the 
young king at Valencay. I ought to have 
allowed him to show himself, in order to 
undeceive those who took an interest in 
him. 

I was especially in the wrong not to let 
him stay upon the throne. Things would 
have grown worse and worse in Spain. I 
should have acquired the title of protector 
of the old king, by giving him an asyhim. 
The new government could not have fail- 
ed to commit itself with England. 1 should 
have declared war both on my own ac- 
count, and as plenioptentiary for the old 



131 

king. Spain would have trusted her army 
to fight her battles, and as soon as I had 
beaten it, the nation must have submitted 
to the right of conquest. It would not 
even have dreamed of murmuring, be- 
cause in disposing of a conquered country 
one only follows established customs. 

If I had been more patient I should have 
followed this plan ; but I thought that the 
result being the same, the Spaniards would 
accept beforehand a change of dynasty 
which the state of affairs reiiderd inevita- 
ble. I managed this affair awkwardly, 
because I passed over the regular grada- 
tions. I had displaced the ancient race of 
kings in a way offensive to the Spaniards. 
Their wounded pride would not acknow- 
ledge the race I had put in its stead. The 
result was, that there was no authori- 
ty any where, or rather, it was every 



132 

where. The whole nation fancied itself 
called upon to defend the state, since 
there was neither army nor authority to 
which that defence could be committed. 
Each man took the responsibility on him- 
self: I had created anarchy, and found all 
the resources it can furnish turned against 
me. The whole nation fell upon me. 

The Spanish nation, whose history re- 
cords nothmg but acts of avarice and fe- 
rocity, was not formidable face to face 
with an enemy. Its people fled at the 
very sight of our soldiers, but they stab- 
bed them in the dark. They were exas- 
perated, and used reprisals. One reprisal 
caused a second, and the war became a 
tissue of atrocity. 

I felt that it gave a character of violence 
to my reign« That it was an example 



133 

dangerous to the people, and fatal to the 
array ; because it consumed the men and 
fatigued the soldiers. 

I erred in the commencement ; but when 
once this war was fairly entered upon, it 
was impossible to abandon it : for the very 
smallest reverse gave spirit to my enemies, 
and ail Europe instantly got under arms. 
I was obliged to be always victorious. 

I went to Spain in order to accelerate 
events, and to examine the ground on 
which I had to leave my brother. I had 
taken possession of Madrid, and destroyed 
the English army which was advancing to 
its relief. My success was rapid : terror 
was at its height ; resistance seemed about 
to cease ; there was not an instant to lose ; 
nor was any time lost. The English mi- 
nistry armed Austria. They were always 
12 



134 

as active in raising enemies, as I could be 
in overcoming them. 

This time the intrigues of Austria v^ere 
skilfully conducted ; thej took me by sur- 
prise. I must give praise where it is due. 

My troops were scattered at Naples, at 
Madrid, at Hamburg. I myself was in 
Spain. It was probable that the Austrians 
might have been successful in the first in- 
stance. This success might have led to 
more, for in these cases the difficulty is 
usually in the first step. They might have 
tempted Prussia and Russia, re-animated 
the courage of the Spaniards, and restored 
popularity to the English ministry. 

The court of Vienna maintains a tena- 
cious policy, that is never disconcerted by 
passing events. It was long before I dis- 



135 

covered the reason, l perceived, a little 
too latp, indeed, that this policy was so 
deeply rooted, only because the good na- 
ture of the government had allowed the 
state to degenerate into an oligarchy. 
The country is led by about a hundred 
noblemen : they possess the soil, and have 
seized upon the exchequer, the cabinet, 
and the army, by which means they are 
the real rulers, and have left to the court 
no more than the honour of the signature. 

Oligarchies never change their opinions, 
because their interest is always the same. 
They do every thing ill; but they always 
continue doing, because they never die. 
They never succeed ; but they support 
reverses admirably, because they support 
them in concert. 

Austria has owed her safety four times 



i36 

to Ibis form of government : it decided foF 
the war she had just declared against me. 

i had not a moment to lose* I left Spain 
abruptly, and flew to the Rhine. I col- 
lected the troops nearest at hand : Prince 
Eugene had allowed himself to be beaten 
in Italy ; I sent him some reinforcements. 
The kings of Suabia and Bavaria lent me 
their troops; with them I beat the Aus- 
trians at Ratisbon, and marched towards 
Vienna, 

I advanced by forced marches along the 
right bank of the Danube ; I depended on 
ihe viceroy to secure our junction. I in- 
tended to reach Vienna before the Aus- 
trians, to cross the Danube there, and to 
take up a position to receive t;he arch« 
duke. 



137 

This plan was well conceived; but it 
was imprudent, because I had to cope with 
a man of talents, and becauses I had not 
enough troops. But fortune was then on 
my side* 

In return, the archduke made a very 
able movement : he divined my object, 
and threw himself rapidly upon Vienna, 
by the left bank of the Danube, and took 
up his position at the same time I did. 
As far as I know, this is the only able 
movement the Austrians ever made* 

My plan had failed. I was in presence 
of a formidable army: it commanded my 
position, and forced me to remain in- 
active. Nothing now but a great battle 
could put an end to the war. It was my 
business to attack ; the archduke had 
121* 



138 

given me that part to plaj: it was not easy^ 
for he was in a position to receive me. 

By an unexpected piece of good for- 
tune, the arcliduke John, who should, at 
all hazards, have kept back the viceroy, 
allowed himself to be beaten. The army 
of Italy drove him from the other side of 
the Danube, and we held possession of the 
right. 

But as we did not wish to remain there, 
we resolved to come to action. I caused 
pontoons to be thrown across the river. 
The army began to move. Marshal Mas- 
sena's division was the first that crossed; 
he beg^an bis fire, when an accident car- 
ried away tlie pontoons. It was impossi- 
ble to replace tliem in time to sustain him: 
he was attacked by the w^hole hostile 
army. This division maintained its ground 



139 

with heroic valour, for its situation was' 
hopeless. Their ammunition had failed : 
they were on the point of destruction— 
when the Austrians ceased firing, think- 
ing that sufficient to the day was the evil 
thereof. They retired to their former 
position at a decisive moment, and deli- 
vered me from the most cruel anxiety. 

Nevertheless, we experienced a reverse 5 
I perceived it by the state of public opi- 
nion. My defeat was published ; my re- 
treat was announced ; the details of it were 
given, and my ruin was foretold. The 
Tyrolese had revolted : we had been 
obliged to send the Bavarian army to that 
country. Parties had taken up arms in 
Prussia and Westphalia, and spread them- 
selves over the country, in order to excite 
revolt. The English undertook an expe- 
dition against Antwerp, which might have 



140 

succeeded, but for their own misconduct. 
My situation grew daily worse. 

At length I succeeded in throwing fresh 
bridges over the Danube. The army 
crossed the river during a dreadful night. 
I was present; at the crossing, for I was 
uneasy about it. It answered completely ; 
our columns had time to form, and that 
great day arose with happy omens. 

The battle was grand; for it was well 
disputed. But the generals did not make 
any great efforts of genius, because they 
commanded large masses upon a flat plain. 
It was long doubtful. The intrepidity of 
our troops, and a bold manoeuvre of Mac- 
donald, decided the fortune of the day. 

Once broken, the Austrian army, de- 
filed in disorder, by a long plain, on which 



141 

it lost a great many men. I pursued 
them vigorously, because I wished to de- 
cide the campaign. Beaten in Moravia, 
there v^as no resource but to sue for 
peace. I granted it for the fourth timce 

I trusted that it would be lasting, be- 
cause people get tired of being beaten, as 
they do of every thing else ; and because 
there was a considerable party in Vienna 
who were in favour of a final alliance with 
the empire. 

I wished for peace, because 1 felt the 
expediency of giving some respite to the 
people; for, instead of receiving advan- 
tages from the revolution, they had as yet 
seen only its horrors. We were no longer 
protectors, as at the beginning of the war; 
and in order to accustom the public opin- 
ion of Europe to the. nature of my power, 



• 142 

it was not politic to show it always under 
a hostile aspect. 

The enemy's party assured the populace 
that they were only arming to deliver 
them from the evils of war, and to lower 
the price of English goods. 

These insinuations made proselytes. 
The war diminished the popularity of the 
revolution. Therefore, I desired peace; 
but it was necessary to obtain the consent 
of the English ministry : Austria undertook 
to ask it. They refused. 

This refusal gave me great anxiety. 
England must have felt within herself re- 
sources which I could not comprehend, 
I endeavoured to discover what thes^ 
were— but in vain. 



143 

Instead of laying down liiy arms, I was 
obliged to keep up my war establishment, 
and to weary all Europe. I was so much 
the more annoyed at it, as the alHes had 
all the honour of the war, though I had 
the success. For they had tiie innocent 
V air of defending those things that are call- 
ed legitimate, because they are old. I, 
on the other hand, appeared the aggres- 
sor, because I fought to destroy these, and 
to set up what was new. The whole 
weight of the accusation lay on me. 

Yet the war of the revolution was but 
the result of the situation of Europe. It 
was the crisis which changed its manners. 
It was the inevitable consequence of the 
transit from one social system to another. 
If I had been the inventor of the system, 
I should have been guilty of the evils it 
i)r<Hight about But it was invtiited bj 



144 

nobody. It was produced by the current 
of the times. This current had silently 
made way for the Revolution, as it had 
done for the Reformation, and the evils 
that followed upon it. War depended no 
more upon me than upon the allies. It 
depended on the nature which the Al- 
mighty has impressed upon human beings. 

England continued the war without 
auxiharies, but not without allies, for every 
enemy to revolution was such. We had 
an open field to fight on in Spain. J sent 
back my troops there, but I did not go 
back myself. I was wrong : because no- 
body does one's business so well as one's 
self. But I was tired of all this commo- 
tion ; and I, from that time, began to medi- 
tate a project that might give a new cha- 
racter to my reign. 



145 

But before I could accompKsh this, the 
enemy embarrassed me in a quarter from 
which I had no apprehension. The north 
was occupied by my troops. The Enghsh 
were not strong enough to attack me in 
that point. It was in the Mediterranean 
that their navy ensured them superiority. 
They possessed Malta, and commanded 
Sicily, the shores of Spain, Africa, and 
Greece. They sought to profit by all 
these advantages. 

They endeavored to excite a re-action 
in Italy, and convert it, if possible, into a 
second Spain. There were discontented 
persons everywhere, for I had not been 
able to give every body their ancient 
rights, combined with the advantages of 
the new system. There were such in Italy 
as well as elsewhere. The clergy had no 
affection for me, because my reign had 
13 



146 

put an end to theirs. The devotees fol- 
lowed their example, and detested me. 
The rabble partook of the same feelings, 
because the clergy are still possessed of 
influence in Italy. The head-quarters of 
this opposition was Rome, as it was the 
®nly town in Italy where it could hope to 
escape my observation. Thence it held 
communications with the English ; it insti- 
gated to revolt ; it insulted me in anony- 
mous pamphlets; it promulgated false re- 
ports. It procured recruits for England; 
it kept in pay the banditti of Cardinal 
Ruffa, for the purpose of assassinating 
Frenchmen; it attempted to blow up the 
palace of the minister of police at Naples, 
It was manifest that the English had a 
view upon Italy, and that they fomented 
these disturbances. 

i could not permit this ; I could not suf- 



147 

fer the French to be insulted andiourder- 
ed. I contented myself, however, with 
making complaints at varioiip times to the 
Holy See. I received civil answers to beg 
I would take the thing patiently. As my 
temper was never very patient, I saw that 
there was a decided hostility against us, 
and that I must outstrip it to prevent its 
exploding. I occupied Rome with my 
troops. 

Instead of allaying the effervescence^ 
this measure, which was perhaps a little 
violent, irritated the public. It however 
secured the tranquillity of Italy, and 
quashed the schemes of Lord W. Bentinck* 
But, in secret, the whole class of devotees 
did every thing that hatred and the spirit 
of the church could inspire against me. 

This centre of conspiracy had ramifica- 



148 

lions in France and Switzerland. The 
clergy, the malcontents, the partisans of 
the old order of things, (for there were still 
such,) had united to intrigue against my au- 
thority, and to do me every possible injury. 
They no longer appeared as conspirators ; 
they had borrowed the standard of the 
church, and they used its thunders instead 
of cannon. It was their watch- word and 
their war-cry. It w^as a sort of orthodox 
free-masonry, which I could not lay hold 
on at any given point, because it pervaded 
all places. 

Besides, it was difficult to attack these 
people in detail, because it would have 
been a persecution; but that is the busi- 
ness of the weak, not of the strong, I 
thought I could disperse the party by an 
alarming display of power. I determined 
to show my resolution, and teach them 



149 

that I chose to maintaia order and autho- 
rity, and that I scrupled at nothing to ac- 
coraph'sh my purpose- 

I knew that nothing could be so severe 
a blow upon the party as to separate it 
from the head of the church. I hesitated 
long before I adopted this resolution, be- 
cause it was repugnant to me ; but the 
longer I delayed it, the more necessary it 
became to decide. I considered that 
Charles V. who was more religious, and 
less powerful than myself, had dared to 
make a Pope prisoner. He was no worse 
for it, and I thought I might at least at- 
tempt as much. The Pope was carried 
off from Rome, and conveyed to Savona, 
Rome was annexed to France* 

This stroke of policy sufficed to coa- 
ftjund the schemes of the enemy. Italy 
13* 



150 

remained quiet and obedient to the last 
moment of the empire. But the war of 
the church was pursued with equal invete- 
racy. The zeal of the devotees was re- 
kindled. It became a secret but venomous 
spirit against me. In spite of all my precau- 
tions I could not prevent their communica- 
ting with Savona, and receiving instruc- 
tions. The monks of La Trappe, of Fri- 
tourg, conducted this correspondence ; it 
'was printed in their house, and circulated 
from priest to priest throughout the em- 
pire. It became necessary to remove the 
Holy Father to Fontainbleau, and to ex- 
pel the monks of La Trappe, in order to 
put a stop to these communications. After 
all, I believe I did not succeed. 

This petty war had a bad effect, because 
I could not prevent it from wearing the ap- 
pearance of a persecution. I had been 



151 

obliged to proceed with severity against 
unarmed persons, and, in spite of myself, 
f o make victims of them. These unhappy 
disputes with the church forced upon me 
five hundred state prisoners; pohtical oc- 
casions never made fifty. I was in the 
wrong throughout this affair; I was strong 
enough to have left the feeble at liberty, 
and I occasioned a great deal of evil by 
attempting to prevent it. 

A great project occupied the state. It 
appeared to me to be of a nature to con- 
solidate my empire by placing me in a new 
situation with regard to Europe. I ex- 
pected important results from it. 

My power was no longer contested ; it 
only wanted the character of perpetuity^ 
which it could not have as long as I had no 
heir* Without an heir my death would 



152 

have been a moment of danger to my dy- 
nasty ; for authority must have no period 
fixed before hand, if it is not to be con- 
tested. 

I perceived the necessity of separating 
myself from a wife by whom I could no 
longer hope for posterity. I hesitated on 
account of the misery of quitting the per- 
son whom I best loved ; it was long before 
I could resolve upon it. But she resigned 
herself to li^ with that devotedness of affec- 
tion which she always displayed towards 
me. I accepted the sacrifice, because it 
was indispensable. The simplest policy 
pointed out to me an alliance with the house 
of Austria. The court of Vienna was 
tired of reverses. By uniting herself 
irrevocably with me, she placed her safety 
in my custody. By this alliance she be- 
came a partner in my greatness, and" 



153 

from that moment it was as much my in- 
terest to support her as it had* before 
been to subdue her. By this alHance we 
produced the most formidable mass of 
power that Jiad ever existed; we surpass- 
ed the Roman empire. The alliance was 
formed. 

On the continent there was nothing 
without our pale, but Russia, and the 
wreck of Prussia : the rest was at our dis- 
posal. So vast a preponderance ought to 
have discouraged our enemies ,* and with- 
out vanity I might now have considered 
my work as accomplished, and that I had 
placed my throne beyond the reach of ac- 
cident. 

My calculations were just : but passion 
never calculates. Appearances, however^ 
were in my favour. The continent was 



154 

tranquil, and accustomed itselfto my reign; 
it at least appeared so by the homage paid 
me. It was so respectful, that a more 
discerning person than myself might have 
been deceived by it. The respect in whicih 
the blood of the house of Austria was held, 
rendered my reign legitimate in the eyes 
of the sovereigns of Europe ; and I be- 
lieved that the throne would not be re- 
fused to the son which the Empress had 
just borne me. 

There were no disturbances any where 
but in Spain, where the English w^ere in 
great force. But that war gave me no un- 
easiness, because I was resolved to be 
even more obstinate than the Spaniards ; 
and with time any thing may be accom- 
plished. 

The empire was strong enough to carrj- 



155 

on the Spanish war without inconvenience* 
It neither put a stop to the decorations 
with which I was embelhshing France, 
nor to the useful undertakings which we 
were pursuing. The administration of 
justice was improving. I was organizing 
institutions which might ensure the 
strength of the empire, by educating a ge- 
neration for the purposes of its support. 

The continental system was the only 
source of dispute with such governments 
as had coasts adapted for smuggling. 
Among these Russia. was in a dehcate situ- 
ation : its civilization was not sufficient to 
enable it to do without Eno^lish goods. I 
had nevertheless insisted on their being 
prohibited ; it was an absurdity, but it w^as 
necessary to complete the system of ex- 
clusion. A contraband trade commenced; 
I foresaw it, because the Russian ^oyem- 



156 

ment does not watch well. But as shut 
doors are always more difficult to pass 
through than open ones, smuggling never 
introduces so many goods as a free trade. 
I thus obtained two-thirds of my object ; 
however, I did not complain the less : they 
attempted to justify themselves, and then 
began anew — we became angry; such a 
state of things could not last. 

In fact, since our alHance with Austria, 
a trial of strength with Russia had become 
inevitable. Russia could not but perceive 
that our political union could have no 
enemy but herself, for we were masters of 
all the rest of Europe. She must there- 
fore content herself with a complaisant 
non-entity, or attempt to make head 
against us and maintain her rank. She 
was too strong to consent to be nothing; 
but she was too feeble to resist us ; in this 



157 

ialternative it was better to assume an at- 
titude of defiance than to acknowledge 
herself conquered beforehand. This latter 
part is always the worst to take : Russia 
decided for the former. 



I began to feel suddenly that there was 
some hauo-htiness in the transactions with 
Petersburg. They refused to seize con- 
traband goods : they complained that I had 
occupied the territory of Oldenburgh. I 
replied in the same tone. It was clear 
that we were about to quarrel, for neither 
of us were patient, and our force was 
nearly equal. 

I was very confident as to the issue of the 
war; because I had conceived a plan by 
which 1 hoped to put an end for ever to 
the long struggle in which I had been en- 
gaged. Besides, I thought that at the point 
14 



158 

fo which we had now attained, the sote«* 
reigns of Europe had no direct interest in 
the conflict, for our interests had been iden- 
tified ; the pohcy of the princes should now 
have been in my favour, for it was no long- 
er my office to shake thrones, but to 
strengthen them. I had added new 
strength to royalty, and in that I had 
wrought for them. They were sure of 
reigning while in alliance with me, equally 
sheltered from war and from revolution. 

This policy was so palpable, that I thought 
the sovereigns clear-sighted enough to 
perceive it. I never distrusted them. Who 
in fact would have guessed that, seduced 
by their hatred against me, they would 
have abandoned the cause of the throne5 
and themselves have brought back a revo- 
lution among their people, to which they 
will sooner or later fall a sacrifice ? 



159 

I had calculated that Russia was too 
large a body to make part of the Europe* 
an system which I had recast, and of which 
France was the centre. I therefore de- 
termined to exclude her from Europe, 
that she might not disturb the unity of my 
system. The new political line of de- 
marcation required to be strong enough 
to resist the whole weight of Russia. 
That country was to be forced back with- 
in the limits she had occupied a hundred 
years ago. 

Nothing but the immense mass of my 
empire could have been vigorous enough 
to attempt such an act of poHtical violence. 
But I believed it possible, and that it was 
the only means of securing the world from 
the Cossacks. 

To succeed in this plan it was necessary 



160 

to re-organize Poland on a sound basis, 
and to beat the Russians in order to force 
them to accept the new frontier that was 
to be traced with the point of the sword. 
Russia might without disgrace have ac- 
cepted the peace which was to fix these 
frontiers, because there was nothing of- 
fensive to her in the arrangement. It 
was an avowal of her strength and of our 
fear. 

Thus placed by my precautions with- 
out the European pale — separated from 
our commonwealth by 300,000 guardians, 
riussia might have united with England. 
She would have preserved her political in- 
dependence atid her national existence ia 
all their integrity; because she would 
have been as much out of our way as the 
kingdom of Thibetw 



161 

This was the only rational plan. Sooner 
or later its ruin will be regretted : lor Eu- 
rope, arranged by mutual consent in a uni- 
form system, re-cast on the model required 
by the spirit of the age, would have offer- 
ed the grandest spectacle that history had 
ever presented. But too many interested 
prejudices bhnded the eyes of its sove- 
reigns to allow them to perceive the dan- 
ger where it really existed. They fancied 
they saw it where the only safeguard 
could arise. 

I set out for Dresden. This war was to 
decide irrevocably on the question which 
had been debated for twenty years; it 
was to be the last : for bey#nd Russia the 
world ends. Our enemies had but a mo- 
ment : they therefore made a last efforts 
The court of Austria began with derang- 
ing my plans on Poland, by refusing to give 
14* 



162 

up her share of it. I fancied myself oblt- 
ged to keep up appearances with regard 
to her, and that instance of weakness ruin- 
ed my scheme : for from the moment [ 
yielded that point It was impossible to set 
Openly about the Independence of Poland. 
I was obliged to portion out the country 
on which the safety of Europe was to der 
pend. By this weakness I spread distrust 
and discontent among the Poles. They 
saw that [ sacrificed them to my own con- 
Yenlence. I saw my error, and was ashamed 
of It. I refrained from going to Warsaw? 
because I had then nothing to do there. I 
had nothing now to depend on for the fu* 
ture fate of the Polish nation but the vic- 
tories I might obtain, 

{ knew tliat boldness often ensures suc- 
cess. I thought it might be possible to 
do in oDe campaign what I had intended 



163 

to hare done in two. This haste pleased 
me — for mj temper had become anxious 
and impatient. I was at the head of an 
armj which knew no feeUng but that of 
glory— no home but a field of battle. In- 
stead of making sure of my ground, and 
advancing by gradual, but certain steps^ 
I traversed Poland, and crossed the Nie* 
men. I beat the armies that opposed me ; 
I marched on without a halt, and I enter- 
ed Moscow. 

It was the last day of my good fortune. 
It should have been the last of my life. 

Master of a capital that the Russians 
had left me in ashes: I might have hoped 
that they would acknowledge themselves 
beaten, and accept the advantageous terms 
of peace I offered. But, at that moment, 
fortune abandoned our cause* England 



U4i 

brought about a peace between Russia 
and the Sublhne Porte, which gave Rus- 
sia the disposal of her whole force. A 
Frenchman whom chance had raised to the 
throne of Sweden, betrayed the interests 
of his country, and alHed himself with its 
enemies in hopes of bartering Finland for 
Norway. 

He himself traced out the Russian plan 
of defence : and England prevented the 
court of Petersburg from accepting peace. 
I was astonished at the delay of its con- 
clusion. The season was advancing. It 
became evident that there was no inten- 
tion of peace. The moment I was sure of 
this I gave orders for a retreat. The ele- 
ments rendered it severe. The French 
acquired honour by the firmness with 
which they supported their reverses. 
Their courage never left them but with 
their life. 



165 

Shocked, myself, at the sight of this 
disaster, I was obliged to recollect that a 
sovereign ought never either to bend or 
weep. 

Europe was still more astonished at my 
misfortunes than it had been at my suc- 
cess. But I was not to be deceived by its 
apparent stupor. I had lost the half of 
that army which had overawed it. It 
might hope to overcome the remainder, 
for the proportions of our forces wer« al- 
tered, I foresaw, therefore, that the mo- 
ment the first surprise was over, I should 
again find the eternal coalition in arms ; 
its shouts of joy had already reached me. 

The moment of defeat is an unfavoura- 
ble one for the conclusion of peace. Aus- 
tria— -who was comforted for my humilia^ 
tion, because by it her share of our al^ 



liance became more important — Austria 
proposed peace. She offered her media- 
tion: it was refused: she had lost her 
credit, 

I must, therefore, again be victorious : I 
felt sure of being so when I perceived that 
the public feeling of France went along 
with me. Never did history present a 
great people in a fairer light: afflicted at 
their losses, but eager to repair them. In 
three months it was done. This single 
fact is a sufficient answer to the clamours 
of such as feel no triumph but in the dis- 
asters of their country. 

France, perhaps, owes to me, in part, 
the proud station she maintained in her 
hour of misfortune ; and if, in my whole 
career, there is a time which deserves the 
esteem of posterity, it is that— for it was 
most painful to bean 



U1 

I appeared, then, at the opening of the 
campaign as formidable as ever. The 
enemy was surprised at the sudden reap- 
pearance of my eagles i the army I com- 
manded was more warlike than accustom- 
ed to war ; but it was heir of a long se- 
ries of glory, and I led it up to the enemy 
with confidence. I had a great task to 
perform; to re-estabHsh our military cre- 
dit, and to renew the struggle which had 
been so near its conclusion. I still pos- 
sessed Italy, Holland, and most of the 
states of Germany, I had lost but little 
ground ; but England redoubled her et"« 
forts. Prussia waged an insurgent war 
against us. The princes of the confede- 
ration were ready to join the strongest, 
and as I still continued so, they followed 
my standard, though languidly. Austria 
attempted to maintain a neutral dignity, 
while Germany was overrun with fire- 



168, 

brands, who spirited up the people against 
tas. My whole system tottered. 

The fate of the world depended ©n 
chance ; for there was no plan. A battle 
would decide it. Russia was to fight this 
battle, because she was strong and in ear- 
nest. 

I attacked the Prusso-Russian army, 
and I beat it three times. 

As my success deranged the plans of the 
favourites of England, they affected to 
abandon all hostile intentions, and com- 
missioned Austria to propose peace. 

The conditions were, in appearance, 
supportable, and many others in my place 
would have accepted them. For they 
©nly demanded the restitution of the Illy- | 



169 

rian provinces and the Hanse towns : the 
nomination of independent sovereigns in 
Italy and Holland ; the evacuation of 
Spain, and the restoration of the Pope to 
Rome. They vrere to have treated for 
the renunciation of the confederation of 
the Rhine and the mediation of Switzer» 
land ; but they were permitted to yield 
these two articles* 

I must have been greatly lowered in 
public opinion, since they dared, after 
three victories, to ask me to give up coun« 
tries that they had not yet even ventured 
|o threaten. 

If I had consented to this peace, the fall 
of the empire would have been more sud- 
den than its rise. By the map, indeed, 
it would still have been great ; but, in fact, 
it would have been nothing. Austria, by 

m 

15 



170 

taking upon herself the office of mediatrix, 
broke t|||^ugh our alliance, and united her- 
self to ttfeje enemy. By restoring the 
Hanse towns I should have shown that I 
could give back my possessions, and every 
body would have been for similar restitu- 
tions ; I should have caused insurrections 
in every country. By evacuating Spain, 
I should have encouraged every species 
of resistance. By resigning the iron 
crown, I should have compromised that 
of the empire. The chances of peace 
were all against me ; those of war might 
save me. 

I confess that too great successes, and 
too great reverses, had marked the course 
of my history, to make it possible for me 
to put off the decision to another day. 
The great Revolution of the 19tli century 
must either be accomplished irreyocably, 



171 

or be buried under a mountain of the 
dead. The whole world was present to 
decide the question. Had I signed peace 
at Dresden, I should have left it undecided, 
and it must have come forward a little 
later. I must have recommenced the long 
career of success that I had already gone 
through; I must have recommenced it, 
although my youth was gone. My em- 
pire, to which I had promised rest, was 
wearied of the war, and ready to blame 
me for not accepting peace. 

It was better, however, to take advan- 
tage of this critical moment, when the fate 
of the world depended upon the issue of a 
single battle ; for, had I been victorious, 
the world would again have been mine. 

I refused peace. As every one prefers 
seeing with his own eyes, Austria saw nd- 



172 

thing But nay imprudence, and thought 
the moment favourable for going over to 
the enemy. I was not, however, certain 
of this defection, till the very last moment; 
but I was well able to sustain it. My plap 
for the campaign was fixed. Its result 
would have been deci&ive. 

The worst of great armies is, that th« 
general cannot be everywhere. My ma- 
noeuvres were, I think, the very best I had 
ever combined; but general Vandamme 
quitted his post, and was taken. Eager 
to make himself a Marshal of the Empire^ 
M'Donald nearly drowned himself in the 
land-Hoods : Marshal Ney let himself be 
^wi«tly beaten : — My plan was overthrown 
in a very few hours. 

I was beaten : I gave orders for a re- 
treat : I was still strong enough to ael 



173 

offensively, by changing my ground ; I did 
not choose to lose the advantage of all the 
places I occupied ; for, by a single victo- 
ry, I should still have been master of the 
North, as far as Dantzick; I, therefore, 
reinforced all my garrisons, with orders 
to hold out to th€ last. They obeyed my 
orders. 

I retired slowly, with an imposing^ 
force ; but still I retired, and the enemy 
followed, increasing at every step ; for no- 
thing fdls the ranks like success. All the 
hatred that time had treasured up burst 
forth at once. The Germans revolted to 
be revenged for the evils of war — the mo- 
ment was propitious ; I was beaten. As I 
foresaw, the enemy appeared to spring 
out of the earth. I awaited them at Leip- 
jsig, on those very plains where they had 
been beaten just before. 
15* 



174 

Our position was not good, because we 
were attacked in a semi-circle. Victory 
itself could be of little use tau&. In fact^ 
the first daj we had the advantage, but 
were unable to renew the attack. It was a 
drawn battle, and we had to begin again. 
The army fought w^ell, in spite of fatigue ; 
but then, by an act which posterity wiM 
designate as it pleases, the allies, who were 
in our ranks, turned suddenly against us?, 
and we were conquered.. 

We fell back upon France ; but so great 
a retreat could not be conducted without 
disorder : exhaustion and hunger destroy- 
ed many of our men. The Bavarians, af- 
ter having deserted from our standards, 
attempted to prevent our return inta 
France, The French marched over their 
dead bodies, and gained Mayence. This 
retreat cost us as many men as that fvouk 
Kussia. 



175 

Our losses were so tremendous, tliat I 
myself was appalled. Tlie nation was- 
overwhelmed. . If the enemy had pursued 
us, they would have entered Parrs with our 
rear guard : but the sight of France dis- 
mayed them : they long looked at our 
frontiers before they dared to pass them. 

The question was no longer glory, but 
the honour of the nation : I therefore re- 
lied on the French. But I was unfortu- 
nate; I was ill served. I do not accuse 
the people; they are always ready to shed 
their blood for their country. I accuse no 
one of treacherj, for it is more diffieult to 
betray than people believe. I only accuse 
that despondency which is the result of 
misfortune : I was not free from it myself. 
He who is discouraged is undecided, be-- 
cause he perceives before him only a 
choice af evils ; and indecision is the worst 
of evilst in matters of importance. 



176 

I ought to have distrusted this general 
degradation more, and to have looked to 
every thing myself. But I depended on 
a frightened ministry, which did every 
thing ill. The fortresses were neither re- 
paired nor provided, for they had not been 
threatened for twenty years. The zeal 
of the peasants victualled them ; but the 
greater part of the commandants were old 
invalids, who had been sent to them for 
repose. Most of my prefects were tlmid^ 
and thought of packing up their goods in- 
stead of defending them. I ought to have 
changed them in time, that none but brave 
men might have appeared in my front 
ranks, if, indeed, such are to be found 
among those who have any thing to lose^ 

Nothing was as yet ready for our de- 
fence, when the Swiss gave up to the allies 
the passage across the Rhine. Notwitb- 



17T 

standing their victories, the enemj had 
not dared to advance boldly ; they crept 
on with caution : they were alarmed at 
marchino: without resistance through a 
country they had conceived to be so thick 
set with bayonets. They did not meet- 
our advanced guard till they reached 
Langres : then began that campaign whicJi 
is too well known to need repetition ; but^ 
which has left an immortal name to the 
handful of brave men who would not de- 
spair of the salvation of France. They re- 
stored me to confidence ; and three times 
I believed that nothing was impossible 
with such soldiers. 

I had still an army in Italy, and strong 
garrisons in the north ; but I had no time 
to call them up : I must conquer on the 
spot. The fate of Europe hung on my 
person ; there was not an important point 
but that on which I stood. 



178 

So doubtful were the allies of success, 
that thej offered me peace. After having 
refused it at Dresden, I could not accept 
it at Chatillon. Before I could make 
peace I must save France, and reinstate 
our eagles on the Rhine, 

After such a proof, our army would have 
been held invincible : our enemies would 
have trembled at the fatality which gave 
me victory. Still master of the south, and 
of the north by my garrisons, a single bat- 
tle would restore my ascendency ; and I 
should have had the glory of reverses, as 
well as that of victory. 

This result was prepared ; my manoeu- 
vres had succeeded ; the enemy was turn- 
ed : he was losing himself. A general ac- 
tion would have ended every thing. A 
moment only was wanting — but my fall 



179 

was fated : a despatch which I had impru- 
dently sent to the empress fell into the 
hands of the allies ; which convinced them 
of their danger. A Corsican who happen- 
ed to be in their council showed them that 
prudence was more dangerous than bold- 
ness. They took the only measure which 
I had not foreseen, because it was the 
only good one. They outstripped me, and 
marched upon Paris. 

They had received promises that their 
entrance should be favoured; but this pro- 
mise would have been unavailing, if I had 
left the defence of the capital in better 
hands. I had confided in the honour of 
tlie nation, and I had madly left those at 
liberty who I knew were without it. I ar- 
rived too'late with succours, and that city, 
which has never defended either its mo- 
Harchs or its walls, had opened its gates. 



180 

I accused General Marmont of having 
betrayed me : I now do him justice : no 
soldier betrayed the fidelity he owed 
his country ; such wretches were found 
amons: a different class. But I was not 
master of myself, nor of my grief, when I 
saw the capitulation of Paris signed by my 
ancient brother in arms. 

From the moment I was conquered, the 
cause of the revolution was lost. It was 
neither the royalists, nor the cowards, nor 
the malecontents, who had overthrown me. 
The allies were the masters of the world., 
since I was no longer able to dispute the 
title with them. 

I was at Fontainbleau, surrounded by a 
small but faithful band. I might have tri- 
ed the chance of battle with it still, for it 
was capable of heroic actions. But France 



181 

would have paid too dear for the pleasure 
of revenge. She would have justly had 
to accuse me of her sufferings. I wish her 
to have nothing to accuse me of but the 
glory to which I raised her name. I was 
resigned. 

They proposed different acts of abdica- 
tion to me ; I felt this to be a mummery. I 
had abdicated on the day on which I was 
conquered. But the formula might one 
day be of use to my son. I did not hesi- 
tate about signing it. 

A numerous party would have wished 
this child to be placed upon the throne, 
that the revolution might be maintained, 
together with my dynasty. But the thing 
was impossible. Even the allies had no 
choice. They were obliged to recall the 
Bourbons. Every one boasted of having 
16 



182 

ferought about their restoration : but it was 
forced. It was the immediate consequence 
of the principles for which they had beea 
fighting for twenty years. By assuming 
the crown, I had placed the throne out of 
the reach of the mob. By restoring it to 
the Bourbons, they placed it out of the 
reach of a fortunate soldier. It was the 
only means of extinguishing for ever the 
^'evolutionary fire. The placing any other 
sovereign on the throne of France would 
have been a solemn recognition of the 
principles of the revolution; in other words, 
an act of madness on the part of the sove- 
reigns. 

I will say more : the return of the Bour- 
bons was a blessing to France. It saved 
her from anarchy; and promised repose, 
because it ensured peace. It was neces- 
sary between the allies and the Bourbons, 



183 

because thej guaranteed each other. 
France was not a party in that peace; 
because it was not made in her favour, but 
in favour of a family that it suited the al- 
lies to replace on the throne. It was 
a treaty intended to satisfy every body. 
Therefore it was the best manner in 
which France could have risen from the 
greatest defeat ever sustained by a warlike 
nation. 

I was a prisoner, and expected to be 
treated as such ; but either from that kind 
of respect inspired by an old warrior, or 
from the spirit of generosity which perva- 
ded this revolution, they allowed me to 
choose an asylum. The allies granted me 
an island, and a title, which they regarded 
as equally vain. They permitted me (and 
in so doing their generosity was truly no- 
ble) to take with me a small numbsr of 



those old soldiers with whom I had pass- 
ed through such various fortune. They 
permitted me to take a few of those men 
whom misfortune cannot discourage. 

Separated from mj wife and child, 
against every law divine and human, I re- 
tired to the Isle of Elba, without any kind 
of project for the future. I had become a 
mere spectator of the age. But I knew, 
better than any one, into what hands 
Europe was about to fall ; and I therefore 
knew that it would be guided by chance ; 
the turns of such a chance might bring me 
again into play. But the want of power 
to contribute towards it prevented me 
from forming any plans, and I lived a stran- 
ger to the world. But the tide of events 
rolled on more rapidly than I had expect- 
ed, and it came upon me in my retreat. 



185 

I received the daily papers ; I learned 
from them the external state of affairs. 
I tried to seize their spirit, through the 
mist of false representations. 

It was evident to me that the king had 
discovered the secret of the age. He had 
discovered that France had chosen the 
revolution. He had discovered, by five- 
and-twenty years' experience, that his party 
was too weak to resist the majority. He 
knew that the majority will always give 
laws. He must therefore reign with the 
majority, that is, by and with the revolu- 
tion. But that he mig:ht not become a re- 
volutionist himself, the king was obliged 
to re-model the revohition by virtue of the 
divine right which he inherited. 

The idea Avas ingenious ; it made the 
Bourbons revolutionists with a safe con- 
16* 



im 

science, and made the revolutionists roy- 
alists bj supporting their interests and 
opinions. There was to be but one heart 
and one soul in the nation. This was 
what every one repeated, but it was ne- 
vertheless untrue. 

There was, however, so much felicity iq 
this coDibination, that France, under this 
system, would have been flourishing in a 
few years. The king, by a single stroke 
©f the pen, might have solved the problen* 
for which I had been fighting for twenty 
years ; since he might have established 
the new poHtical economy of France, to 
which all Europe would have assented. 
In order to succeed, the only requisite art^ 
was that of knowing how to be master. 

To bring about this great work, the king. 



187 

had granted a charter, cast in the mould 
of ail other charters. It was excellent — 
the J are all excellent when they are put 
in practice. But as charters are only skins 
of parchment, they are of no value but by 
the authority which takes their execution 
Mpon itself. Now, this authority resided 
nowhere : instead of concentrating it in 
the only responsible hands, the king allow- 
ed it to be frittered away among the party 
which was called by his name. Instead 
of being the sole head of the state, he al- 
lowed himself to be made the head of a 
party ; every thing in France assumed a 
fectious appearance. Anarchy appeared. 

From that moment there was nothing 
but inconsistency and contradiction in the 
court. Words never agreed with things, 
because the courtiers in their hearts 
wished for things different from those 
which existed. 



188 

The ting had granted the charter that 
it might not be forced from him ; but it 
was evident that the royalists hoped to un- 
ravel it thread hy thread, because in truth 
it did not suit them* 

Thej had only therefore erected tern*- 
porary piers for the arch of government ; 
they had re-modelled the nobility, but they 
had given it neither privilege nor pov^er. 
It was not democratic, for it was exclu- 
sive ; it was not aristocratic, for it was a 
cypher in the state : it was, therefore, an 
injury to the nobility to have re-established 
it on such a footing ; for they had set it 
up to be attacked, because it was offen- 
sive, without giving it the means of de- 
fence. This was an absurdity which could 
Hot but lead to continual strife. 

They attempted to re-model the clergy-*- 



189 

but they chose an apostate bishop to re- 
establish the throne and the altar. They 
attempted to expunge the memory of the 
revolution— but they dug up its dead 
bodies. 

They tried to make the revolution of '89 
acceptable to the royalists, and the coun- 
ter-revolution of the 31st of March to the 
ex-conventionalists. Both attempts were 
ineffectual ; for revolutions will suit none 
but those who have gone along with their 
spirit, and were born in it. The king 
should have had no man older than twenty 
about him. 

They attempted to maintain the revolu- 
tion, while they debased its institutions. 
Therefore, they disheartened the bulk of 
the nation, which had grown up with 
them, and was accustomed to respect 
them. 



190 

They retained my soldiers, because they 
were afraid of them ; and they had them 
reviewed by men who talked of glory 
while they bowed to the Cossacks. 

There was no confidence in the existing 
state of things, because there was no visi- 
ble centre of action. There was none in 
public interest, for it was compromised; 
nor in opinion, for it was crushed ; nor in 
power, because there seemed to be nei- 
ther head nor hands at the summit of af- 
fairs. 

I was tolerably well informed of all that 
passed at Vienna : at that congress where 
they were amusing themselves with apeing 
me. I learned, in good time, that the 
ramisters of France had persuaded the 
eono^ress to take me off the Isle of Elba, 
and to exile me to St, Helena. I had som^ 



191 

difficulty in believing that the Emperor 
of Russia would consent to such a vio- 
lation of the faith of treaties; for I always 
esteemed his character highly; but, at 
length, I became satisfied that it was so, 
and I set about measures for avoiding the 
destiny they were preparing for me. 

My feeble means of defence would soon 
have been exhausted ; I had, therefore, to 
endeavour to create such as might make 
me, a second time, formidable to my ene- 
mies. 

France had no confidence in her goveriv 
ment. The government had as little in 
France. The nation had found that her 
interests were not those of the crown, and 
that those of the crown were not hers. 
It was mutual treachery, which could not 

fail to ruin one or other of the parties. It 



192 

was time to prevent it; and I conceived a 
plan, which will appear bold in history; 
but which, in fact, was reasonable. 

I aspired to re-ascend the throne of 
France. However weak my resources, 
they were superior to those of the royal- 
ists; for the honour of the country was 
my ally, a feeling which never dies in the 
heart of a Frenchman. 

I relied on that support. I reviewed the 
diminutive force, which I destined for so 
great an enterprise. The soldiers were 
ill clothed, for I had not wherewithal to 
equip them anew, but their hearts were 
firm. 

My preparations were soon completed, for 
I carried nothing but arms. I rehedon the 
French for furnishing us with every thing. 



193 

The English officer, who was stationed 
near me, was amusing himself at Leghorn, 
and I set sail with a favourable wind. 

Our little flotilla met with no accident ; 
our passage lasted five days. I came in 
sight of the coast of France at nearly the 
same spot on which I had landed fifteen 
y€.ars before, on my return from Egypt. 
Fortune seemed to smile as she did then : 
I returned, as before, to that land of glo'- 
ry, to raise her fallen eagles, and to restore 
her independence. 

I landed without an olDstacle. I found 
myself once more in France. " I returned 
in misfortune. My train consisted of a 
small number of friends and brothers in 
arms, who had partaken with me of good 
and ill fortune ; but this was a claim on the 
respect and love of the French. 
17 



194 

I had no settled plan, because I had 
only vague notions respecting the state of 
things. I intended to be governed by cir- 
cumstances. I had only taken some reso- 
lutions for probable occurrences. 

I had but one road to take, because I 
wanted a strong hold. Grenoble vras the 
nearest fortress ; I therefore marched to- 
wards Grenoble, as quickly as possible, 
because I wished to ascertain what I had 
to depend on. The reception I met with 
on my road surpassed my expectations, 
and confirmed my intentions. I saw that 
that portion of the people, which was not 
corrupted by passion or interest, retained 
a proud feeling, which was wounded by 
their humiUation. 

I at length discovered the first troops 
that were sent against me. They were 



195 

my own soldiers — I advanced without fear, 
for I knew they would never dare to fire 
upon me. They saw their emperor march- 
ing at the head of their old masters in the 
art of war, who had so long showed them 
the way to victory. I was still the same, 
for I brought back independence along 
with my eagles. 

Who could for a moment believe that 
French soldiers would hesitate between 
official oaths taken on the banners of a 
stranger, and the faith they had sworn to 
one who had come to free their country ? 

The people and the soldiers received 
me with the same shouts of joy. These 
shouts were my only escort, but they were 
better than any splendour, for they pro- 
mised me the throne. 



I expected to meet with some resistance 
from the royalists; but I was mistaken! 
they made none, and I entered Paris with- 
out even seeing any of them, except, per- 
haps, at the windows. There was never 
enterprise so rash, in appearance, which 
cost so little trouble in the execution : it 
was because it met the wishes of the na- 
tion, and that every thing is easy which 
goes along with public opinion* 

This Revolution was eflfected in twenty 
days — without costing a single drop of 
blood. The aspect of France was changed. 
The royalists fled for help to the allies. 
The nation, left to itself, resumed its mag- 
nanimity. It was free : for, by placing me 
on the throne, it had exercised the great- 
est act of spontaneous power to which the 
people can claim a right. I could not have 
been there without its consent, for my six 



197 

hundred men could never have conquered 
it. I was no longer dreaded as a prince^ 
but beloved as a saviour. The greatness 
of my enterprise had blotted out my mis- 
fortunes : it had restored the confidence of 
the French ; I was once more the man of 
their choice. 

Never did a whole nation throw itself 
with so much self-devotion and intrepidity 
into the ir^ost perilous situation : it calcu- 
lated neither the danger nor the conse- 
quences. It was the love of independence 
that animated this people, to whom histo- 
ry will give the precedence over all others* 

I had refused the treaty of Chatillon 
because I was upon the throne of France, 
and it would have made me stoop too low. 
But I might accept that granted to the 
Bourbons, because I had just come from 
17*' 



im 

the Isle of Elba. — In mounting one may 
stop — never in descending, 

I hoped that Europe, astonished at my 
return, and at the energy of the French 
people, would be afraid to renew the war 
with a nation so daring, and with a man 
whose single character was stronger in 
itself than all his armies* 

This would have heen the case had the 
congress been dispersed, and had we 
treated with the princes separately. But 
their pride took the alarm, because they 
were under the eyes of each other ; and 
my attempts to maintain peace were un- 
successful. 

I ought to have foreseen this result, and 
to have availed myself, without delay, of 
the first impulse of the people^ to show to 



■*I3 



199 

what degree we were formidable. The 
enemy would have been dismayed at our 
boldness. He ascribed my hesitation to 
weakness. He was right; for I was no 
longer acting in character. 

My pacific attitude lulled the nation to 
sleep, because I had allowed it to believe 
that peace was possible ; from that mo- 
ment my system of defence was over- 
thrown, because the means of resistance 
were not adequate to the danger. 

The only means of procuring revolution-^ 
ary resources would have been to begin 
that great work anew ; to stir up the pas- 
sions in order to profit by their aberrations. 
Nothing less could have saved France. 

I should have only had to regulate a se- 
cond revolution as I had done the first j 



200 

but I never loved popular commotions^ 
because there is no rein to guide them ; 
and I deceived myself by imagining that 
we might defend Thermopylae by loading 
each piece with a dozen cartridges. 

I however set about a partial revolu- 
tion, as if I had not been aware that half- 
measures are good for nothing ! I offered 
the nation liberty, because it had com- 
plained of a want of it during my first 
reign. This liberty produced its usual 
effect ; it put words in the place of actions. 
The imperialists were disgusted, because I 
shook the system to which they had at- 
tached themselves. The bulk of the na^ 
tion shrugged their shoulders, for they 
eared very little about liberty. The re- 
publicans distrusted my proceeding, for it 
was not natural to me^ 



201 

Thus did I myself cause disunion in the 
state. I perceived it, but I relied on the 
war for a remedy. France had risen again 
With so much magnanimity ; she had 
shown such contempt for the future ; her 
cause was so just, (for it was that of 
the most sacred rights of nations,) that I 
hoped the whole people would have arm- 
ed themselves by a spontaneous movement 
of honour and indignation. But it was too 
tete. 

I felt the danger of my situation. I cal- 
culated the attack and the defence : they 
were not in proportion. I began to doubt 
of my means : but it was not the time to 
confess it. By an unfortunate chance, my 
health was deranged as the crisis ap- 
proached. My body was in a state of suf- 
fering ; my mind irresolute. The armies 
advanced. In mine, the soldiers were full 



2@2 

of devotion and enthusiasm ; but the offi- 
cers felt these emotions no longer. They 
were wearied; they were no longer young; 
ihey had grown gray in arms : they had 
estates and palaces. The king had allow- 
ed them to retain their fortunes and their 
places. They were now like adventurers 
risking them anew with me. They were 
beginning their career again ; and, how- 
ever well we may love life, no man would 
choose to live it over again : it is asking 
too much of human nature- 

I set out far head-quarters, alone against 
the world. I tried to combat it. Victory 
was faithful to us the first day; but she 
deceived us the next. We were overcome, 
and the glory of our arms was extinguish- 
ed on the same field where it was kindled 
twenty-three years beforce 



203 

I might still have defended myself, for 
tny soldiers would not have deserted me; 
but they waged war against me alone. 
They called upon the French to deliver 
me up : in me it would have been an act 
of cowardly meanness, to force them to 
fight. I was not worth so great a sacri- 
fice. It was my part to give myself up, 
I had no choice. I determined to surren- 
der myself. I hoped they Would be con- 
tent with the hostage I thus placed in their 
hands, and that they would put the crown 
upon ray son's head. 

1 believe it would have been impossible 
to have placed him on the throne in 1814 : 
but I think it might have been wise in 
1815. I do not give my reasons — possibly 
the future may bring them to light. 

I did not quit France till the enemy ap- 
proached my retreat. As long as none 



204 

but Frenchmen were about me, I chose to 
remain among them, alone and unarmed. 
It was the last proof of confidence and af- 
fection I could show them. It was a tes- 
timony that I bore to their loyalty in the 
face of the world, 

France respected misfortune in my per- 
son to the very moment in which I quitted 
her shores for ever. I might have retriev- 
ed my reverses in the new world ; but af- 
ter having reigned over France, I could 
not think of debasing her throne by seek- 
ing glory elsewhere. 

A prisoner in another hemisphere, I 
have nothing now to defend but the repu- 
tation History is preparing for me. She 
must say, at least, that the man for whom 
a whole people devoted itself, could not be 
so destitute of worth as some of his co- 
temporaries assert. 



